It is not often that one reads a novel with an entirely new type of plot. And it is certainly rare to encounter the twists and turns that Andrews has devised.

Take Florence, working as a publisher’s assistant, but determined that one day she will be a writer. She was raised by a single mother in Florida, is socially awkward, and conscious that she does not really fit in with the glossy New York lifestyle.

Like everyone working in publishing she knows about Maud Dixon, the pen name of the author of a highly successful novel about murder in Mississippi. But Dixon did no interviews, and sought no publicity, despite the book selling millions of copies.

For Florence, normally passive but prone to sudden overwhelming rages, an opportunity to work as Maud Dixon’s assistant, after she loses her own job, is wonderful, particularly when told that she would go to live with Dixon, whose real name is Helen Wilcox.

While Andrews paints Florence’s character with certain personality defects, Helen is portrayed with her own idiosyncrasies, being brusque, demanding, and fond of wielding psychological power.

Each woman wants to be the other, for vastly different reasons, but is each a sociopath? Before the reader can decide, the pair travel to Morocco, ostensibly so Helen can finish researching her new Maud Dixon book. Florence wakes up in hospital after a car accident with no trace of Helen, so she assumes Helen’s identity.

That is when the story weakens slightly, with the introduction of kite-surfing, partying young Americans whose only literary purpose seems to provide more victims. By the novel’s end, the whole story has been turned on its head and the killings have ended … we hope.

Reviewed by Jennifer Somerville