Review of Deceptive Calm
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Brayo Yobra
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Review of Deceptive Calm
[Following is a volunteer review of "Deceptive Calm" by Patricia Skipper.]
I’ll be honest: what drew me to Deceptive Calm was the quiet tension of its title—it suggested a storm beneath the surface, and that’s exactly what the story delivers. The book walks into that storm through the life of Vanessa Vaughn, a woman who seems, on the outside, to have everything—beauty, privilege, a high-profile marriage. But what simmers beneath is far from elegant. It’s a tale of emotional captivity, racial identity, and the cost of silence in a world built on appearances. At the heart of it is Vanessa’s marriage to Tod Von Westerkamp, which is less a union and more a cold arrangement wrapped in gold leaf. Her journey through that suffocating relationship is, for me, the novel’s most important commentary—one about control, isolation, and the brutality that can exist behind manicured doors.
Tod is the kind of character that makes you uneasy before he even does anything openly cruel. It’s in the way he curates Vanessa's life—her looks, her habits, her body after childbirth like she’s a project, not a person. There’s a scene that sticks with me: post-pregnancy, he hires a personal trainer and chef, installs a home gym, and expects her to bounce back for the sake of image, not health. That might sound minor to someone who hasn’t lived under those expectations, but in context, it’s quietly devastating. It’s the thousand tiny acts of control that stack up into emotional abuse. And I think the author knew exactly what she was doing by making that manipulation feel so polished—it mirrors how abuse often hides under luxury.
Now, if you’re looking for a thriller with high-stakes drama, the book doesn't hold back. The twists are something. One minute Vanessa is trying to name her child, the next, we’re thrown into forged medical records, sabotaged brakes, a deadly car crash, and a near-drowning that reads like something out of a movie. The sickle cell revelation? That was a punch to the gut—and not just narratively. It cracks open the story's deeper themes: race, legacy, and what people will do to erase a truth they can’t control. These moments aren’t only exciting—they give the plot teeth, make it bite down hard. It’s the kind of suspense that kept me reading at 1am even though I had to be up early.
But—here comes the part where I knocked off two stars. Some of these twists, as thrilling as they are, lean toward unbelievable. The perfectly timed overheard confessions, the conveniently missed surveillance cameras, the villain who explains his plan a little too clearly—these moments pull me out of the world a bit. I found myself thinking, Would that really happen like that? I mean, I'm all for dramatic license, but it started to feel like the plot needed luck to keep rolling. If the suspense had been grounded just a little more—maybe if the outcomes relied less on coincidence and more on character choice—I think it would’ve hit harder.
That said, the emotional arcs do a lot of lifting. Vanessa’s bond with Trisha is gold. Trisha isn’t just the funny sidekick or brave best friend; she saves Vanessa’s life, quite literally, and not in some damsel-in-distress way either. When she pulls Vanessa and Brett from that ocean after the crash, it felt earned. Raw. Like someone showing up in the worst moment and choosing love over fear. I found myself rooting for Trisha as hard as I did for Vanessa. And later, when they reunite after everything, that part made me sit back and breathe. It’s a reminder that female friendship isn’t a subplot—it’s a lifeline.
I think the book succeeds most when it lets its characters deal with each other rather than chase thrills. The quieter moments—Vanessa reflecting at Sister Rosalie’s grave, Trisha laughing from a hospital bed despite near-death, even Barry’s unspoken history with Vanessa—those were the scenes that stuck with me longer than the action-packed ones. There’s an emotional intelligence in the writing that shines through, even when the plot mechanics get noisy.
So, it's 3 out of 5 stars from me. Not because it wasn’t gripping—it was—but because I wish the tension didn’t have to rely so heavily on theatrical near-misses. Give me more of the character-driven weight and just a bit less of the made-for-TV plot swings, and this would’ve been something close to unforgettable. Still, for readers who want a cocktail of identity drama, social critique, and gasp-worthy moments, Deceptive Calm serves it up—with a twist.
******
Deceptive Calm
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
I’ll be honest: what drew me to Deceptive Calm was the quiet tension of its title—it suggested a storm beneath the surface, and that’s exactly what the story delivers. The book walks into that storm through the life of Vanessa Vaughn, a woman who seems, on the outside, to have everything—beauty, privilege, a high-profile marriage. But what simmers beneath is far from elegant. It’s a tale of emotional captivity, racial identity, and the cost of silence in a world built on appearances. At the heart of it is Vanessa’s marriage to Tod Von Westerkamp, which is less a union and more a cold arrangement wrapped in gold leaf. Her journey through that suffocating relationship is, for me, the novel’s most important commentary—one about control, isolation, and the brutality that can exist behind manicured doors.
Tod is the kind of character that makes you uneasy before he even does anything openly cruel. It’s in the way he curates Vanessa's life—her looks, her habits, her body after childbirth like she’s a project, not a person. There’s a scene that sticks with me: post-pregnancy, he hires a personal trainer and chef, installs a home gym, and expects her to bounce back for the sake of image, not health. That might sound minor to someone who hasn’t lived under those expectations, but in context, it’s quietly devastating. It’s the thousand tiny acts of control that stack up into emotional abuse. And I think the author knew exactly what she was doing by making that manipulation feel so polished—it mirrors how abuse often hides under luxury.
Now, if you’re looking for a thriller with high-stakes drama, the book doesn't hold back. The twists are something. One minute Vanessa is trying to name her child, the next, we’re thrown into forged medical records, sabotaged brakes, a deadly car crash, and a near-drowning that reads like something out of a movie. The sickle cell revelation? That was a punch to the gut—and not just narratively. It cracks open the story's deeper themes: race, legacy, and what people will do to erase a truth they can’t control. These moments aren’t only exciting—they give the plot teeth, make it bite down hard. It’s the kind of suspense that kept me reading at 1am even though I had to be up early.
But—here comes the part where I knocked off two stars. Some of these twists, as thrilling as they are, lean toward unbelievable. The perfectly timed overheard confessions, the conveniently missed surveillance cameras, the villain who explains his plan a little too clearly—these moments pull me out of the world a bit. I found myself thinking, Would that really happen like that? I mean, I'm all for dramatic license, but it started to feel like the plot needed luck to keep rolling. If the suspense had been grounded just a little more—maybe if the outcomes relied less on coincidence and more on character choice—I think it would’ve hit harder.
That said, the emotional arcs do a lot of lifting. Vanessa’s bond with Trisha is gold. Trisha isn’t just the funny sidekick or brave best friend; she saves Vanessa’s life, quite literally, and not in some damsel-in-distress way either. When she pulls Vanessa and Brett from that ocean after the crash, it felt earned. Raw. Like someone showing up in the worst moment and choosing love over fear. I found myself rooting for Trisha as hard as I did for Vanessa. And later, when they reunite after everything, that part made me sit back and breathe. It’s a reminder that female friendship isn’t a subplot—it’s a lifeline.
I think the book succeeds most when it lets its characters deal with each other rather than chase thrills. The quieter moments—Vanessa reflecting at Sister Rosalie’s grave, Trisha laughing from a hospital bed despite near-death, even Barry’s unspoken history with Vanessa—those were the scenes that stuck with me longer than the action-packed ones. There’s an emotional intelligence in the writing that shines through, even when the plot mechanics get noisy.
So, it's 3 out of 5 stars from me. Not because it wasn’t gripping—it was—but because I wish the tension didn’t have to rely so heavily on theatrical near-misses. Give me more of the character-driven weight and just a bit less of the made-for-TV plot swings, and this would’ve been something close to unforgettable. Still, for readers who want a cocktail of identity drama, social critique, and gasp-worthy moments, Deceptive Calm serves it up—with a twist.
******
Deceptive Calm
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
