Book review: The Death of Us by Abigail Dean

It was you who finished us off. There are people who would say it was me, would say it was Edward. But it was you.

I had The Death of Us on my NetGalley shelf for ages and entirely forgot I had it, which is terrible, because I really liked Abigail Dean's first two books and I'm sure I was keen to read this. But somehow, I forgot. (Weirdly, my Kindle thought I'd read it, but I definitely hadn't.)

Anyway, I have now, and it was just as good as expected. The Death of Us is about the marriage of Isabel and Edward, and the damage wrought by one horrific night when their home was invaded by a serial offender - later, killer - who would not be caught for many years.

It's in many ways a love story. For writer Isabel and lawyer Edward, their love is both enduring and somehow fragile.

    'There would be other lovers, other girlfriends, many people with whom he might    be infinitely happy, but he would never care for anybody as he did for Isabel.'

The victims of the man dubbed, by the press, the South London Invader's reign of terror include the ones who lived - Isabel and Edward, Nina Bosko, Laura Bishop, Andrew Pearson - and the ones who didn't. Nina's parents. Andrew's wife. Others who we never learn the names of.

It's not a thriller - the crimes have happened, the perpetrator has, finally, been caught. Rather, it's a deeply considered study of the lasting effects of trauma - particularly on Isabel, Edward, and their relationship, but also on others. One survivor has turned her trauma into campaigning energy. Another is so deeply damaged as to be barely functioning. Isabel and Edward's surrogate daughter Nina, just four years old when her parents were killed in their home, has built a rewarding life, can now say: "Despite you, I have still been loved."

The story follows different time frames - before and after the attack, and the present day court case - and both Isabel's and Edward's perspective. (Isabel's narrative, addressed to her attacker, illustrates how present he still remains in her head - but also, in a sense, gives her control of the narrative. And ultimately, her decision not to give him her words in court feels significant.) The thread about Isabel's friend and police officer, Etta Eliogu, and her drive to find the attacker, is moving and distressing.

For me this was a deeply compelling, thoughtful read about trauma, love, and eventual survival. It's dark, but hugely engaging... and also hopeful, in its own way.