Following her short story collection Hungry People, Tasha Coryell’s first novel centres on an aimless young woman who channels her existential angst into communicating with a man accused of the serial murders of women. Love Letters To A Serial Killer is fast-paced, witty and littered with great prose and vocabulary – displaying Coryell’s background in creative writing – but the plot takes an awry turn.

What is set up to be a promising romance-turned-thriller ultimately verges on fetishism, and enters slightly cringeworthy territory. Protagonist Hannah starts out as funny and feisty, but ends up weak-natured and apathetic, lacking a clear sense of identity. The novel’s romantic promise quickly dwindles – if it ever really started at all – and the thriller element lacks suspense.

Hannah’s half-hearted attempts at “taking the investigation into her own hands” is mainly comprised of her obsession with the victims (and becoming one herself). An original concept which could have worked as a romance or a thriller, but in this instance, does not work simultaneously.