Jesus holy god this book was painful to read.
I don't know what I really expected, and it's my own fault for not being able to quit reading a book once I've started, no matter how awful the writing. It came with a high recommendation. I think I shall ignore further recommendations from this person haha.
The story idea is good. Stalker that is making mannequinns out of live people as a shrine to an actress he's obsessed with. It could have been so interesting had it been better played. Like, in the moments where the abducted women awake and realize they're naked in a strange place after being drugged and can't feel their bodies is a GOLDMINE. There is so much potential for an amazing, tense, frightening scene as we are in these women's heads. Instead, the best Jackson offers is, "What kind of sick crap is this?" as an inner monologue. Shit man. What the hell.
OH, and if I highlighted every overused disgusting cliche in this book, I'd have more yellow space than white. "Out and out," "hell freezing over," all those ugly little fillers. I wouldn't recommend reading this book EVER but if you must, don't read it while you take a writing class, because all those awful cliches just pop out at you more.
Oh, and Jackson spends about 500 pages leading up to the dramatic confrontation between the protagonist and her would-be killer, only to give you a 2 page, scanty little deus-ex-machina resolution.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.