The Silent Patient ( Review)

I can’t remember having ever read a thriller. But, having recently had my eyes opened to several other genres, I decided now was as good a time as any, and that The Silent Patient was as good a book as any. 

I was tempted by the praise and hooked by the premise:

This psychological thriller follows Alicia Berenson after she shoots her husband five times and never speaks again. 

There has never been a question as to whether Alicia did it. It is only a matter of why?

Theo Faber wants more than anything to be Alicia’s Psychotherapist…and learn the truth.

 “We’re all crazy, I believe, just in different ways.”

I wanted this book to unlock a whole new love of a new genre. Perhaps it was this too-high expectation that got the better of my reading experience, in the end. 

I figured that having never delved into the genre, no matter what The Silent Patient had in store for me, it would be new and exciting.

I was, unfortunately, mistaken.

Quick chapters high-strung with cliff-hanger endings, which switch between Theo’s first-person view and Alicia’s diary entries leading up to the incident, propel the narrative forward with gusto. So much so that it would have been more than easy to read this book in one sitting…and I wish I had. The momentum was so forceful that it was an effort to put the book down to go to bed, or work, or do anything else that needed to be done, and I had more and more difficulty jumping back into the roller-coaster ride that is this book. I may have enjoyed it more had I not gotten off the ride so many times and just gone up the dang hill and experienced the drop. 

The writing was standard but engaging and kept me interested if not enthused. My favorite part was the way Greek mythology was sprinkled throughout the narrative, hinting here and there at a vague Greek-tragedy inspiration. 

“There’s so much pain everywhere, and we just close our eyes to it. The truth is we’re all scared. We’re terrified of each other.” 

But this was weighed down by the way the story rested on stereotypes and tropes. The blonde bimbo, the deeply-troubled artist, the inevitable affair, and so on. I don’t feel bad listing them here; they are so overused that they become all-too expected to really be spoiled. Too many characters and situations in Silent became…cookie-cutter. 

I had to remind myself to suspend my disbelief in order to accept these characters. To be fair, their ability to come somewhat pre-packaged allowed the story to barrel towards the reveal more efficiently, after all, and that’s what we, as readers, are supposed to be after. But then, I also found myself questioning the choices and situations that arise, wondering whether they could or would really have occurred considering people’s jobs, legal issues, and such. Which meant I had to suspend my scoffs more and more as time went on.

I could have accepted all of this, however, if the reveal had shattered the story (and my expectations) the way I hoped it would. But it was just as cookie-cutter and somewhat unbelievable as the rest. Let me not overreact; it wasn’t so bad. But even without ever having read a psychological thriller before, I know that the twist is one that has been used time and time again, so much so that it may almost be considered…a classic. I can’t honestly say I saw it coming, but I think part of that is because I thought it was too absurd. It answered some of the questions that had been brewing in me as I read but opened up just as many, if not more. 

That being said, I enjoyed the journey that Silent took me on. I know that many have already greatly enjoyed this book, and I realize that many others will too. 

“Remember, love that doesn’t include honesty doesn’t deserve to be called love.”

I rated this book 3 out of 5 stars. It did not surprise me or shock me the way I had wanted it to, which I believe is a feat, considering it was the first of its kind that I’ve experienced.