Sweet Karoline is a cleverly constructed psychological novel of perceptions, with a narration that brought to mind Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca and a plot reminiscent of Patricia Highsmith. 

 

Told in first person, through present and past tense, we hear from the 33 year old Los Angeles based Anne Williams, as she reflects on historical encounters and uncovers her own heritage. The locations are evocatively portrayed (particularly Italy) and the characters engage. 

 

Karoline fell to her death but was she pushed, did she jump? How did she die? Before solving this mystery we have to wrestle with our own changing perceptions, skilfully manipulated by Astolfo. It’s up to the reader to see past Anne’s distorted opinions and piece together the facts. As such, each reader will hold different interpretations.

 

How Anne sees herself and others, and her views on love and sex, is at the heart of the novel. Emotionally challenged she often defines characters by their looks, giving her skewed judgements on their true nature.

 

Each chapter is followed by a short diary entry, the author of which is hidden. Is it Karoline, perhaps Anne? Or someone else?  I thought I knew, then was sure I knew, before releasing I didn’t know. But that didn’t matter at all. The reader must work to know the book’s characters and that’s one of its strengths.

 

There are twists and reveals, right up to the very last word. In fact, you’ll be thinking and reflecting beyond the ending. This is a book that almost asks to be re-read.

 

The shifting of time and venue may disorientate and in the wrong hands this could jar but Astolfo, like a cinematographer adopting shaky camera footage, is in full control. Another potential issue is that it’s hard to love a character you are never sure about, a character that can’t love herself and doesn’t engender much sympathy. As blunt, amusing and interesting as Anne can be, I was happy with the shortness of the story (at 214 pages). My interest in Anne and Karoline and my compelling need to know what happened might have been dampened if the book had been longer. 

 

As Anne begins to discover her colourful family history through relationships – not least with her siblings and ill mother - we begin to discover her, too. 

 

It’s a story of suspicion and superstition, a look at the powerful influence family and friends have on us, and how our experiences – and the presence of love - affect us.