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The Last Thing to Burn: Longlisted for the CWA Gold Dagger and shortlisted for the Theakstons Crime Novel of the Year Kindle Edition
He is her husband. She is his captive.
'Outstanding. The best thriller in years' MARTINA COLE
'One of the best thrillers I have read in years' THE OBSERVER
'I couldn't put it down. A visceral nightmare of a book with one of the most evil villains I've come across in a long time. Powerful writing' STEVE CAVANAGH
'Short, sharp shocker'THE TIMES
Her husband calls her Jane. That is not her name.
She lives in a small farm cottage, surrounded by vast, open fields. Everywhere she looks, there is space. But she is trapped. No one knows how she got to the UK: no one knows she is there. Visitors rarely come to the farm; if they do, she is never seen.
Her husband records her every movement during the day. If he doesn't like what he sees, she is punished.
For a long time, escape seemed impossible. But now, something has changed. She has a reason to live and a reason to fight. Now, she is watching him, and waiting . . .
'A true nail-biter' THE GUARDIAN
'Ratchets up the tension to the point where I had to check my pulse' LIZ NUGENT
'Heart-stoppingly suspenseful, a masterclass in tension' ERIN KELLY
'An unbearably tense read, with incredible writing' RAGNAR JONASSON
'I could not stop reading this! Brilliantly done' DENISE MINA
'Sensational. Claustrophobic, compulsive, and almost unbearably tense it's a heart-in-mouth read that's packed with suspense. Readers will be saying 'just one more page' all the way from the gripping beginning to the heart-stopping end' C.L. TAYLOR
'Seriously nail-biting stuff! I raced through it, my heart in my mouth' EMMA CURTIS
'Tremendously powerful and fantastically written, heart-stopping from page one. Expect to see it on all the award lists' SARAH HILARY
** THE LAST PASSENGER IS AVAILABLE NOW - 'Astonishing' IAN RANKIN; 'The apex of suspense writing' STEVE CAVANAGH **
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From the Publisher
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Review
Will doesn't just build suspense; he cloaks his story in it ― Culture Fly
Compelling, this shines a light on to a plight that is rooted in real-life tragedy ― The Sunday Post
Superb ― Mel Sherratt
Sensational. Claustrophobic, compulsive, and almost unbearably tense it's a heart-in-mouth read that's packed with suspense. Readers will be saying 'just one more page' all the way from the gripping beginning to the heart-stopping end ― C.L. Taylor
Will Dean's first standalone thriller is a claustrophobic nail-biting read that is heart-breaking and suspenseful in equal measure . . . Not for the faint-hearted, Will Dean has written a stunning and thought-provoking narrative that will resonate with even the harden genre advocate ― SHOTS
Sublime. An atmospheric, deliciously tense thriller. I thought my heart stopped a few times. I loved it ― Irenosen Okojie
A brilliant and thought-provoking start to the year ― Sunday Sport
A thrillingly tense new pageturner from master of suspense Will Dean ― Grazia
Extremely tense . . . a story of survival in its most basic form, but more than that it's about the immense power of the human spirit ― Culturefly, Best Books of 2021
This book . . . Devastating, taut, horrifying but also such strength . . . it's going to stay with me for a long time ― Laura Van Rensburg
I'm in awe. What a magnificent achievement. Gripping, heart-breaking, transcendent. It's bound to be a huge hit - and an award winner ― Paul Burston
Packs a mighty emotional punch . . . gut-wrenching ― Peterborough Telegraph
Blown away - this is going to be HUGE ― Lucy Dawson
Chilling and compelling ― Lucy Atkins
Impossible to put down . . . an early contender for one of the best books of the year ― Daily Express S Magazine
Very highly recommended ― Mark Edwards
Incredible! ― Miranda Dickinson
The atmosphere is vivid, the characters are brilliantly drawn . . . Claustrophobic, harrowing but also inspiring, this book is not for the faint-hearted. It's hard to read, and hard to put down ― The Press Association
A superbly taut novel . . . utterly brilliant ― Stuart Turton
Seriously nail-biting stuff! I raced through it, my heart was in my mouth ― Emma Curtis
Unrelentingly tense and chilling, this is a gripping read ― Sunday Express S Mag
This is a brilliant, chilling depiction of life on the very edges of society. I read it in one sitting, and lived every second of the book with the characters. Compelling, horrifying and gripping, and written with such empathy and control, it's probably the best thing I will read this year ― Jane Casey
I could not stop reading this! Brilliantly done ― Denise Mina
I cannot remember the last time I read a book this immediate, intense, gripping, taut terrifying, moving and brilliant . . . the tension was so agonising . . . it deserves to be number one, it deserves to be a huge movie, it deserves to win awards. My book of the year and it's only February ― Lisa Jewell
A timely and unforgettable locked-door mystery ― Daily Express, Books of the year - picked by Anne Cater
Shocking, visceral and totally unforgettable ― Woman & Home Online
One of the best thrillers I have read in years ― The Observer
A tense, brilliant read ― Closer
Achingly tense ― Mr B’s Bookseller’s Dozen
I truly was gripped by this book . . . I think it's up there with the best crime/thriller novels I've read ― Catherine Ryan Howard
Short, sharp shocker ― The Times
Tense, emotional and highly recommended ― Susi Holliday
The atmosphere is vivid, the characters are brilliantly drawn ― The I
Outstanding. The best thriller in years ― Martina Cole
An astonishing standalone from Dean ― New Statesman Books of the Year round up
Brilliant ― Elly Griffiths
Misery meetsRoom ... a triumph ― Marian Keyes
Terrifying and often emotive, it is also a powerful story of strength and determination that is as inspiring as it is chilling. Definitely one for your 2021 reading list ― Sunday Independent
This is every bit as accomplished as Dean's previous books, but its unrelenting narrative of spousal cruelty is not for the fainthearted ― Financial Times
A taut nail-biter of a thriller ― The Sun
Beautiful writing, wonderful characterisation and gripping plot ― Rowan Coleman
A heart-pounding read that is impossible to put down. Sinister, creepy and superbly written ― Dani Atkins
I couldn't put it down. A visceral nightmare of a book with one of the most evil villains I've come across in a long time. Powerful writing ― Steve Cavanagh
Tremendously powerful and fantastically written, heart-stopping from page one. Expect to see it on all the award lists ― Sarah Hilary
A true nail-biter ― The Guardian
One of the most tense books you'll ever read ― Fabulous
Vividly-written . . . a powerful thriller ― The Irish Times
75 of the best books for 2021: A bleak but brilliantly handled tale of oppression, torture and enslavement that will have you turning the pages late into the night ― The i online
Such a brilliantly executed, tense, taut thriller ― Imran Mahmood
We couldn't put this tense novel down ― Bella
Ratchets up the tension to the point where I had to check my pulse ― Liz Nugent
Completely absorbing and important and brilliantly written ― Fiona Mitchell
A truly frightening, unsettling read that is worth reading in one sitting . . . Superbly paced ― Woman’s Way
It was a thoroughly gripping, brilliantly uncomfortable read with terrible ticking-clock moments that had my whole body tense and straining for a glimpse of him on that driveway. The bleak landscape, the colourful back story and the excellent characterisation all made for a very satisfying read. LOVED IT ― C. D. Major
An unbearably tense read, with incredible writing ― Ragnar Jonasson
Compelling, dark and seriously nail-biting, this is thriller writing at its best ― Surrey Life
Heart-stoppingly suspenseful, a masterclass in tension ― Erin Kelly
A heart-racing exploration about human survival. An addictive and insightful thriller ― Maxine Mei-Fung Chung
This harrowing and too-timely tale will haunt you ― Heat
A gripping psychological thriller about an obsessive, damaged relationship ― Daily Express
From the Back Cover
'Outstanding. The best thriller in years' MARTINA COLE
'One of the best thrillers I have read in years' THE OBSERVER
'I couldn't put it down. A visceral nightmare of a book with one of the most evil villains I've come across in a long time. Powerful writing' STEVE CAVANAGH
'Short, sharp shocker' THE TIMES
'An early contender for one of the best books of the year' S MAGAZINE
He is her husband. She is his captive.
Her husband calls her Jane. That is not her name.
She lives in a small farm cottage, surrounded by vast, open fields. Everywhere she looks, there is space. But she is trapped. No one knows how she got to the UK: no one knows she is there. Visitors rarely come to the farm; if they do, she is never seen.
Her husband records her every movement during the day. If he doesn't like what he sees, she is punished.
For a long time, escape seemed impossible. But now, something has changed. She has a reason to live and a reason to fight. Now, she is watching him, and waiting . . .
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
I’m not going back.
Not now, not ever. My right ankle is the size of a fist and I can feel bone shards scraping together, six-year-old shards, as I limp away from the farm cottage toward the distant road.
The destination is there, I can see it, but it’s not getting any closer. I walk and hobble and it’s still a whole world of pain away from where I am right now. My eyes scan the distant road, left, then right, for him. Very little traffic. Trucks transporting cabbages and sugar beets; cars ferrying fruit pickers. One bus a day.
I have my fiver, his fiver, my ticket out of this flatland hell. The creased green paper’s rolled and tucked into my hair, still black after these nine long years though only God knows how.
Every step is a mile. Etched aches and new pains melt into red-hot misery beneath my right knee: boiling fat and razor-sharp icicles all at once.
The track is pale October brown, the mud churned and dried and churned by the tractor. His tractor.
I move as fast as I can, my teeth biting down onto my tongue. I’m balancing different pains. Managing best I can.
He’s not coming. I can spot his Land Rover from a mile away.
I stop to breathe. The clouds are moving over me, urging me out of this forgotten place, helping me at my back, pushing me along toward that road, toward that one bus per day with his banknote hidden in my hair.
Is that?
No.
Please, no. It can’t be.
I stand completely still, my anklebone throbbing stronger than my own heart, and he is there on the horizon. Is that his truck? Maybe it’s just the same model. Some plow salesman or schoolteacher. I look right, toward the town past the bridge, and left, toward the village. Places I’ve never been to. My eyes lock onto the Land Rover. His Land Rover. Keep driving, for the love of God be someone else and keep on driving.
But he slows and then my shoulders fall.
He turns onto this track, his track, the track to his farm, to his land.
I look right at the nothingness, the endless fields he’s sculpted, and the spires in the distance, and then left to the wind turbines and the nothingness there, and then back. That’s when I weep. Tearless, noiseless weeping. I fall. I fold forward with a crack, a sharp stone beneath my right knee, a blessed distraction from my ankle.
He drives to me and I just kneel.
With a clean, clear-thinking head maybe I’d have managed to escape? Not with this leg. Not with him always coming back. Always checking on me. Always watching.
It’s Kim-Ly in my head now and I will not let him in. My sister, my little sister, it is you who gives me the strength to breathe right now on this long, straight-churned mud track in this unseen flatland. I’m here for you. Existing so that you can carry on. I know what’s to come. The fresh horrors. And I will endure them for you and you alone.
He stands over me.
Once again, I exist only in his shadow.
Consumed by it.
I won’t look at him, not today. I think of you, Kim-Ly, with Mother’s eyes and Father’s lips and your own nose. I will not look up at him.
I’ve made it past the locked halfway gate.
But no farther.
It’s still his land all around. Smothering me.
He bends and reaches out and gently picks me up off the dirt and he lifts me higher to his shoulder and carries me on toward the cottage.
I am as limp as death.
My tears fall to the mud, to the footprints I created an hour ago, the man’s size eleven sandal prints; one straight, the other a right angle—that one a pathetic scrape more than a print, each step a victory and an escape and a complete failure.
He walks without speaking, his strong shoulder pressing into my waist, hard and plateaued. He holds me with no force. His power is absolute. He needs no violence at this moment because he controls everything the eye can see. I can feel his forearm at the back of my knees and he’s holding it there as gently as a concert violinist might hold a bow.
My ankle is ruined. The nerves and bones and tendons and muscles are as one damaged bundle; sharp flints and old meat. Fire. I feel nothing else. The pain is something I live with every day of my life, but not like this. This is wretched. My mouth is open. A silent cry. A hopeless and unending scream.
He stops and opens the door that I scrub for him each morning and we go inside his cottage. I have failed and what will he do to me this time?
He turns and walks past the mirror and past the key box bolted high on the wall and heads into our one proper downstairs room. In Vietnam my family had six downstairs rooms. He takes me past the locked TV door and past the camera and places me down on the plastic-wrapped sofa like I’m a sleeping toddler extracted from some long car journey.
He looks down at me.
“You’ll want a pain pill, I expect.”
I close my eyes tight and nod.
“It’ll come.”
He takes the Land Rover keys from his pocket and walks to the key box in the entrance hall. He takes the key from the chain around his neck and opens the box and locks away the keys and then locks the box.
He comes back in. A man twice the size of my father but half the worth of a rat.
“Empty ’em.”
“What?” I say.
“Empty your pockets, then.”
I unzip his fleece, the zipper buckling as I sit hunched on his sofa, and reach down into my apron, his mother’s apron, and pull out my remaining four objects, the four things I have left in the world that are actually mine.
“Four left.”
I nod.
“Well, your fault, ain’t nobody to blame but yourself, Jane.”
My name isn’t Jane.
“Pick one.”
I look down at the plastic dust sheet covering the sofa, at the ID card, which contains the last words I possess in my own language, the last photo of myself, of what I used to look like before all this happened. It’s the last thing with my real name, Thanh Dao; with my date of birth, November 3; with my place of birth, Biên Hòa, Vietnam. It proves I am really me.
Next to it lie Mom and Dad. My mother with her smiling eyes and her cowlick bangs and that half grin I see in my sister sometimes. And my father, his hand in hers, with love and trust and friendship and warmth shining onto my mother from his every pore, his every aspect.
And then Kim-Ly’s letters. Oh, sweet sister. My life is your life now; my future belongs to you, use every second of it, every gram of pleasure. I stare down at the wrinkled papers and think of her Manchester days, her job, her hard-won independence, soon to be real, complete, irrevocable.
I inherited the fourth item from his mother. I didn’t want it but I needed it. I need it still. I found it in the storage closet up in the small back bedroom, the one he makes me sleep in one week out of every four. Of Mice and Men is his mother’s book but I’ve read from it or thought of it or wished from it every day for years so now, by rights, I’d say it belongs to me.
I look at him, at his lifeless blue-gray eyes.
“I need them Lenn, please.” I mesh my fingers together. “Please, Lenn.”
He paces over to the Rayburn stove and opens the fire door and pushes in a handful of coppiced willow and closes the door again and turns to me.
“You went leavin’ here so now you choose one of ’em. If you don’t, I will.”
He goes over to the sink, and I see the jar on top of the cabinet.
“Can I have a pill first, please.”
“Pick one and then you can take the pill.”
My ID card. My photo of my parents. My sister’s precious letters. My book. My, my, my, mine. Not his. Mine.
I already know which one it’ll be. I’ve rehearsed this in my mind. In the middle of the night. Planning. Scheming. Hoping for the best while preparing for the worst. For this.
“You didn’t even make it one-third out,” he says. “Don’t know what you were thinking, woman.”
I focus on Mom’s face. I memorize it through my ankle pain, through the hurt and the dry tears. I register the details. The asymmetry of her eyebrows. The warmth in her gaze. I look at Dad and scan his face and take in every mole and line, every beautiful wrinkle, every hair on his gentle head.
I push the photo toward Lenn and gather the letters and the book and the ID card back into my arms and onto my lap and bury them deep inside his mother’s apron.
This was a selfish act. But I think my parents would understand. They’d know I needed the book to keep sane and the ID card to stay me and the letters to get up each morning and go to sleep each night. They’d forgive me.
He picks up the photo and holds it by the corners so as not to touch the image. He puts it inside his oil-stained overalls and then he stretches up and takes the jar off the kitchen cabinet. It looks like something you’d find in a candy store, tall and made from glass with a screw-on metal lid. It contains tablets the size of pencil erasers. He won’t tell me exactly what they are but I know. He’s a farmer. He can order them without anyone asking any questions. He takes out a pill, the white dust marking the cracks of his calloused fingertips like some rock climber or weight lifter, and then he snaps it in two. He places half back inside the jar and screws on the lid so tight I can’t budge it, and then places the jar back on top of the cabinet. I’ve drugged him before, of course. Well, I tried to, did you think I wouldn’t? Fragments dissolved into hot gravy. Almost two pills. But he’s very particular about his food. He tasted something was off. By then he’d eaten most of his dinner. I watched him, praying, pleading, begging. He got sleepy, and then, dozy like a furious wasp at the end of summer, he came at me. That’s how I lost my own clothes and the silver ring my grandmother gave me when I left home. He tasted the horse drugs in his chicken pie gravy. He’s more careful these days.
“Have this.”
He pours me a glass of water from the sink and hands it to me along with the snapped half pill and I take it and swallow it.
“Can I have the other half, please, Leonard?”
“You’ll get poorly, you know you will.”
The pill’s taking effect slowly. I urge its haziness down my body toward my ankle, faster, willing it down there through the blood vessels and nerve pathways to dull the pain away.
“We’ll see about the rest of that pill. Maybe after you’ve had dinner.”
That is hope right there. The chance that I might black out, be swept away by the tide into a deep and dreamless sleep. He’ll be watching me, monitoring me, he always is—gazing, staring, owning—but I will be at the bottom of the sea by then, a break from this fenland life, a sabbatical from hell.
“Better get the sausages on while I watch them tapes. I want ’em like me mother did ’em, proper brown and no pale bits.”
I try to stand from the sofa but my ankle’s too raw, even with the horse pill kicking in. I drag myself over to the fridge while he sits at the old PC, careful to unlock it with his password, his broad back shielding it from me. The screen lights up. Everything in his fridge is his food. Oh, I’ll eat some of it, but I didn’t buy or grow or pick or choose anything. I drop the sausages, Lincolnshire, into a cast-iron skillet on the Rayburn. He’s scanning through the tapes, the tapes from the seven cameras installed by him in this house, his house, to monitor me every single day. The sausages spit in the pan. I watch the fat liquefy and boil inside the sausage skins, bubbles moving, and then one bursts open from its side and fizzes.
“You’ve had quite a day, ain’t you?” he says, pointing to the screen, to me a few hours ago collecting my belongings, my four objects that are now three, and leaving this place through the front door.
“Quite the little holiday, you’ve had, eh?” He looks over at the potatoes in the sink. “Make sure there’s no lumps in it this time, Jane.” He turns back to the desktop screen. “Me mother’s never had lumps. I don’t like eatin’ no lumps.”
Product details
- ASIN : B089NBWKFP
- Publisher : Hodder & Stoughton (7 Jan. 2021)
- Language : English
- File size : 1.9 MB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Print length : 257 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: 20,133 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- 483 in International Mystery & Crime (Kindle Store)
- 2,166 in Crime Thrillers (Kindle Store)
- 3,142 in Suspense Thrillers
- Customer reviews:
About the author

Will Dean grew up in the East Midlands, living in nine different villages before the age of eighteen. After studying law at the LSE, and working many varied jobs in London, he settled in rural Sweden with his wife. He built a wooden house in a boggy forest clearing and it's from this base that he compulsively reads and writes.
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Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the story gripping and compelling. They describe the book as an outstanding, brilliant read that keeps them hooked. Readers praise the writing quality as incredible and well-thought-out. The book touches on real-life situations and handles a difficult subject with skill. They appreciate the well-developed characters and their determination to survive. However, opinions differ on the pacing - some find it heartwarming and beautiful, while others say it's uncomfortable and tense.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers find the story gripping and exciting. They praise the compelling plot, fantastic characters, and intense storytelling that keeps them hooked throughout. The book creates a believable world of captors and captives with clever touches. It all comes together in an explosive ending that wraps up the story.
"...was an exceptionally well-thought out, snake-bite-venomous, utterly gripping novel, a terrifying and tremendous balancing act by Will Dean, between..." Read more
"...I thought this was a brilliant, intense, albeit at times uncomfortable and disturbing read, maybe a bit repetitive with respect to Jane's everyday..." Read more
"...As a thriller it was truly thrilling. It made me feel very uncomfortable but still delivered great character development and action packed plot...." Read more
"...The whole thing is incredibly well constructed, the descriptions often peptic and beautiful in a truly wonderful way as things are described by a..." Read more
Customers find the book engaging and well-written. They describe it as a stand-alone novel with vivid descriptions and a well-drawn setting.
"...I’ve not felt tension of such a strength before. It’s incredibly powerful and I can only applaud the author for creating such a poisonous atmosphere..." Read more
"...I thought this was a brilliant, intense, albeit at times uncomfortable and disturbing read, maybe a bit repetitive with respect to Jane's everyday..." Read more
"...Thirdly, the book did its job. It’s was horrific, it was a tough topic but I just couldn’t stop reading...." Read more
"...well constructed, the descriptions often peptic and beautiful in a truly wonderful way as things are described by a character for whom English is a..." Read more
Customers find the writing quality amazing and brilliant. They describe the book as a well-written slow-burner with tension throughout. Readers praise the author's skill in capturing the protagonist's voice. The story is told in one voice, and the author captures it beautifully.
"...This was an exceptionally well-thought out, snake-bite-venomous, utterly gripping novel, a terrifying and tremendous balancing act by Will Dean,..." Read more
"...This book is a very well-written slow-burner, the tension present all the time, unrelenting, suffocating, but at the same levels almost throughout...." Read more
"...Firstly, Will Deans writing was brilliant. I found that I read this book SO quickly. 1 because it wasn’t unnecessarily long...." Read more
"...The whole thing is told in one voice, by one protagonist, continually...." Read more
Customers find the book gripping and uplifting. It's a story about survival and strength, with the heroine's determination. The author handles difficult subjects like trafficking and imprisonment well, empathizing with the heroine'd situation. They describe the book as gripping and absorbing, making you want to know more about the heroine's story.
"...I loved the exploration of sense of self and identity within this novel...." Read more
"...a very well-written slow-burner, the tension present all the time, unrelenting, suffocating, but at the same levels almost throughout...." Read more
"...Brilliant skills. Secondly, I think writing a book about immigration has a place in the book market. Is it for everyone? Not at all...." Read more
"...The whole thing is incredibly well constructed, the descriptions often peptic and beautiful in a truly wonderful way as things are described by a..." Read more
Customers enjoy the well-developed characters. They find themselves immersed in their lives and cheering for the main character. The book provides a clear visualisation of the characters, places, and scenarios in their minds. Readers appreciate the strong female character and feel empathy for them. Overall, the story is about the strength of the human spirit and our will to survive.
"...Jane’s character was incredibly well-crafted, so much so that it’s hard to believe she isn’t real...." Read more
"...It made me feel very uncomfortable but still delivered great character development and action packed plot...." Read more
"...The villain of the piece is a monstrous character; a vicious, torturous, psychopath who somehow mixes this with elements of basic ignorance, being..." Read more
"...Characters were amazingly written, strong female leads which I love...." Read more
Customers have different views on the pacing of the book. Some find it gripping and heartbreaking, while others consider it uncomfortable and repetitive at times. The book is described as a tense thriller that makes readers feel trapped in their seats.
"...well-thought out, snake-bite-venomous, utterly gripping novel, a terrifying and tremendous balancing act by Will Dean, between hope and despair, of..." Read more
"...and really beautifully crafted; yet at the same time it is haunting, disturbing, claustrophobic, thrilling and entirely engrossing..." Read more
"...this was a brilliant, intense, albeit at times uncomfortable and disturbing read, maybe a bit repetitive with respect to Jane's everyday life at the..." Read more
"...The plot was fast paced and kept you hooked throughout, with an interesting plot twist at the end that I definitely didn't see coming!..." Read more
Customers have different views on the book's portrayal of human trafficking. Some find it a gripping tale of human exploitation, with explicit mentions of abuse and violence. Others feel it provides an important perspective on modern slavery and human trafficking, but some readers feel the book contains disturbing topics and leaves unanswered questions.
"...Last Thing to Burn is a truly horrific, raw and yet absolutely real story of human trafficking and exploitation. '..." Read more
"Widely praised by critics and readers alike and with the worthy subject of human trafficking at its core, Will Dean’s first stand-alone, The Last..." Read more
"...TRIGGER WARNING: this book contains A LOT of unpleasant topics being based around abduction and captivity...." Read more
"...It is a psychological thriller about people trafficking...." Read more
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A dark gripping thriller
Top reviews from United Kingdom
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- Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 23 February 2021I’ve not read Will Dean’s work until now, though I’ve always been aware of it. Even before the arrival of his best-seller The Last Thing To Burn, I’ve seen reviews of his previous work in the Twittersphere, and the praise has not gone unnoticed. I’ve always intended to get round to reading Dean’s novels. As with most readers, my to-read pile has been teetering on the brink of collapse since I was about twelve years old, so actually, ‘getting round’ to a certain book can happen in any given time-frame, anywhere between months and years. However, it became increasingly difficult for me to ignore the continuous stream of screamy, excited reviews, and I’ll admit, I caved. I went straight to Amazon, purchased my copy, waited for it to arrive on my Kindle, and started it immediately. In the darkness of my bedroom, as I took my first tentative steps into this world, and as I wondered what awaited me, I found myself stood in the dismal little cottage, warm beside the Rayburn, waiting to meet Lenn and Jane for the very first time…
The Last Thing To Burn by Will Dean follows the life of Jane. Jane is Lenn’s husband, and Jane has no control over her life, and has no freedom. Jane is watched all day everyday via cameras. Jane has a strict routine. Jane makes dinner. Jane will stoke up the Rayburn. Jane will have a bath. Then Jane will either sleep in the small back bedroom, or in the same room as her husband, depending on her menstrual cycle. Jane isn’t living. Jane is simply existing. She more often than not will mentally separate herself from her own body, in order to survive. The one thing keeping Jane going is the thought of her younger sister, until the one thing keeping Jane going becomes something else entirely. And then, the stakes are almost too high. But freedom is only ever a burst of courage away. And courage can quite often be found in the comfort of another. It’s just a question of when, and with who.
Claustrophobic. Emotionally draining. Horrifying. There really isn’t a word to describe how deep this novel managed to drag me down. Within just a few chapters, I was consumed entirely by this terrifying, tiny world that existed between the four walls that were Jane and Lenn’s home. Though surrounded by such a vast amount of open space, it was incredible how the author still managed to make it feel like nothing else existed outside of the cottage. That the small rooms, rooms full of damp and rot that I’m convinced I could almost smell, were the only rooms that existed in the whole entire world. The feeling of being trapped, of a whole life being confined to such a small space, was so powerful within this novel, it made me feel constricted, also. I found myself kicking my legs from beneath my blanket, just to remind myself that I was free to do so. Dean ensures that the reader experiences every single emotion that is felt by Jane. The despair. The hopelessness. The fear. But on the other side of that, the hope, the faith, the love, which is incredible to know still exists in the woman who has been through so much in the time she has spent in the cottage with Lenn.
I loved the exploration of sense of self and identity within this novel. It was so important for Jane to not forget herself, and I understood this entirely. After all, when you’re given a name that doesn’t belong to you, I can imagine that after such a long time, who you truly are would begin to slip away, lost beneath the faux identity you’d been assigned. I enjoyed the tender moments of recollection. Looking back on her past and the memories she held dear of her family and her life back in Vietnam warmed my heart and allowed me to feel closer to her. Jane’s character was incredibly well-crafted, so much so that it’s hard to believe she isn’t real. I love to put myself in a characters’ shoes when I’m reading, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so in these circumstances without feeling my stomach tighten with anxiety and worry. After all, Jane’s life, and what she deals with, is quite simply repulsive. It amazes me that still, after everything she goes through in her story, there is that tiny flame of hope in her chest that remains. That determination, that sense of worth, that pull towards knowing she is strong enough, and that it’s just about waiting for the right moment. I’ve not felt tension of such a strength before. It’s incredibly powerful and I can only applaud the author for creating such a poisonous atmosphere for his characters to reside in.
Lenn was something else. I’m not sure I’ve ever come across such a monster before now, and to say he terrified me would be an understatement. Although not outwardly violent and loud, it was the fact he managed to stay so calm and silent when doing such unspeakable things that unnerved me most. Isn’t that the sign of a psychopath? The ability to remain emotionless in such horrible circumstances? Although at times he seemed almost docile, there was a permanent edge of danger to this man. Of something within him that I could tell was not afraid of taking things to the next level, and we see this when, one by one, Lenn takes Jane’s possessions from her and burns them in the fire, with no consideration as to how she may feel. He asserts his power and authority again and again throughout the novel, only ever reinforcing the ultimate truth, and that is that Jane will never be free. He loves to keep a routine, and the constant mentions of his mother really got on my nerves. The fact that she had also been called Jane made the situation with the new Jane all the more stranger. I began to wonder whether Jane was in fact just a replacement mother for Lenn, someone who cleaned and made his dinner for him. Although a physical brute of a man, I couldn’t help feeling that there was definitely a weakness to Lenn somehow, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. He wasn’t stupid, but I didn’t get the impression that he was incredibly sharp, either. At one point, the consequences of his actions leave Lenn worrying, and it gave me the impression that Lenn would probably act on instinct quite a lot, but rarely think of what would come after.
The pacing of this novel was exceptional. I can’t recall the last time I turned the pages with such a feverish need to reach the end. Will Dean ensured that with every new chapter, there was something new to keep me involved. Not once did I lose interest. It wouldn’t have been possible, anyway. I became so invested in Jane’s life, so troubled and concerned, that I felt if I put the book down, then perhaps something terrible would happen while I was away. Silly as it may sound, I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off her for a single second. It was almost like I needed to be there for her, to share the pain and grief and despair so that she wouldn’t be shouldering it alone. Bizarre, isn’t it, how you can come to feel for fictional characters in such a way! But when the author writes so excellently that you feel this close to the characters, then it’s surely a good thing.
From the first page, I became mentally and emotionally invested in this book. I felt as though I was one with Jane, that every decision she made, we made it together, and ultimately, whatever happened to her, was going to affect me on such a deep level, I’d lose a part of myself, too. The tension was unbearable from the beginning, and only seemed to grow more so as the plot progressed. And so, by the end, I’d lost my ability to breathe normally, and it was a final surge through the last chapters, so that I could finally exhale. This was an exceptionally well-thought out, snake-bite-venomous, utterly gripping novel, a terrifying and tremendous balancing act by Will Dean, between hope and despair, of light and darkness. Although heavy, the peppering of faith and will to survive were the moments I, much like Jane, found myself clinging to.
I cannot recommend The Last Thing To Burn by Will Dean enough. All that I can say is, go and read it for yourself. You won’t regret it, I can promise you that. And by the end of it, you’ll wish you could go back and do it all over again, once you’ve taken the time to recover, of course.
- Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 28 March 2021Following all the hype surrounding the release of this book, I wanted to jump in feet first in this story and see for myself. Now having read it, I can say that I wasn't disappointed. The author held my interest and my knuckles pressed white throughout.
"I live in an open prison surrounded by wall-less fields and fence-less fens."
'Jane' is a foreigner, trafficked into the UK and held like a slave in a desolate English farm surrounded by acres and acres of open fields. She lives in fear of the man who has brought her there to serve him in every way imaginable. She's not bound in chains, but she can't go anywhere. She wouldn't try and do anything to upset Lenn. Escape is not an option. She knows it's impossible and if she were ever caught, the repercussions would be terrible and unimaginable. By the beginning of the story we're aware that she had already had more than just a taste of Lenn's brutal character.
Her thoughts are always with her sister who occasionally writes her a letter from where she's working in the UK. Jane draws courage from her sister's success in this foreign land. But she has to behave because if she were caught doing something serious, like escaping, her sister would suffer the consequences. She would be brought there in that hell in her place. So Jane suffers in silence, day by day, obeying Lenn's every command and dance to his music.
But then something unexpected happens and Jane becomes determined more than ever to escape from Lenn's clutches. But would she dare? How can she do it? What would happen if she were caught?
This book is a very well-written slow-burner, the tension present all the time, unrelenting, suffocating, but at the same levels almost throughout. The descriptions are amazing and vivid. I could clearly picture the vast fields surrounding the farm, the pig barn, the front room where Jane mostly spends her time. The dark, low, half-cellar beneath the house. The abuse scenes, though not too gruesome, may not be everyone's cup of tea.
I felt terrible for Jane. My heart went out to her. I wished I could help her in some way. How could a human being hold so much power over and inflict so much pain and horrific abuse onto another one like that? Though I knew this was a work of fiction, I also knew that there are many people subjected to such horrors throughout the world in real life, who suffer silently behind closed doors. This book serves as a shocking eye-opener on human trafficking and domestic abuse.
I thought this was a brilliant, intense, albeit at times uncomfortable and disturbing read, maybe a bit repetitive with respect to Jane's everyday life at the farm, but a memorable read nonetheless. I highly recommend it and I'll surely be looking for more books by Will Dean.
Top reviews from other countries
- Amazon CustomerReviewed in Australia on 21 October 2021
5.0 out of 5 stars Could not put down.
The kind of book that makes you stay up so late that your tired at work the next day. Gripping.
- HelenReviewed in Italy on 4 April 2021
5.0 out of 5 stars An incredible read!
An incredible read that kept me hooked right from the start, the story full of tension all the way through. Emotion and desperation ooze from each page, as you experience the mental and physical torture 'Jane' goes through every day of her life. Sensitively written, with a descriptive narrative that takes you into the secluded farmhouse full of mould and dark secrets, this is a story that will remain with me for a long time. Highly recommend.
- Michelle TranReviewed in Germany on 18 October 2023
5.0 out of 5 stars Book
I just received this book a few days ago so I haven’t read it but it was packed really well and in good condition
- Emily McDonaldReviewed in the United States on 20 November 2024
5.0 out of 5 stars This book is terrible, and beautiful, and frightening
There are no words I can find to adequately describe The Last Thing to Burn. I’ve been reading all of Will Dean’s books this month and they have all affected me deeply, but differently. I knew going in that this was going to deal with serious subject matter, and it did so with love and respect. This books shows why hope can be absolutely devastating. I am haunted by this book. Talk about a book hangover. I will faithfully read every book this author publishes sight unseen. All I need is to know he wrote it.
I don’t know what to do with myself right now.
- Tricia HerchakReviewed in Canada on 28 January 2024
5.0 out of 5 stars Amazing!
There are no words to describe how much I loved this book! The emotions that I felt while reading it ran the gamut. I will read everything that this author ever writes. I am a fan!