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Look into his eyes, uh-oh, he's been tellin' lies / He's a lover boy at play / He don't play by rules, uh-oh, girl, don't play the fool, no (Cold Hearted � Paula Abdul).

Well, I think me and Paula are going to have to take a little break from this series for a little while, because I rated this lower on the second read and I'm feeling kind of down about it. And keep in mind that this was an actual reread, not that glitch that's going around on here where it randomly gives "second read" dates to books that I've only read once... YEARS AGO!!! I'm not mad though, don't worry. Otherwise, sorry book, but I can’t help but feel like this time around Amory's adventures were less on the fun side of things and more of the "soul-sucking-rapid-aging-scene-from-Hercules" variety. Or like that scene where (spoilers for Game of Thrones, I guess) Melisandre takes off her The Substance amulet in Game of Thrones, take your pick of dated references. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still charmed by this series or whatever, but Death Wears a Mask falls into similar pitfalls that a lot of immediate sequels do; it escalates the same dramatic story beats from the first book rather than trying to undertake a new venture. It’s literally the same book with a slightly different coat of paint, like a palate swap in Super Smash Bros.! Amory is tired of her marriage to Milo (This time, she thinks he's cheating on her. Groundbreaking), then another handsome man and a beautiful lady drives a wedge even further between their marriage, Amory declares that she’ll never be made a fool again� and then goes back to Milo in the end. Fooled again. And while I was a lot more charitable of this in the first book, I’m over it by now. We’ve been here before! We don’t even get a proper portrayal of the Ames� happy relationship before we’re forced back into the same old �Amory-is-suspicious-of-her-husband� shtick. And even though I'm firmly on Amory's side in these books, their relationship troubles were so frustrating that I started to dislike everybody involved. Hell, I was even mad at myself for picking this series back up again! I’m just glad that Ashley Weaver is a mystery writer, because if she strictly wrote romance, I’d probably file her under the "not for me" tag. Because damn, I might be the one who’s exhausted, but it’s the book who’s tired. You’d think I've had enough shit-talking about Milo in the last review, but� nah, when it comes to hating, I’ve always got more. Hey, I wish I could write a snarky one sentence Letterboxd review like everyone else, but unfortunately my predilection for ranting is much too powerful. I was dreamin' when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray. I know I hogged all the time in the Socratic Seminar last time, talking about how this series is about forgiveness and moving past the past and blah blah blah, but I was more generous because I figured she'd either ditch Milo and hook up with sexy ass Gil, or get back with Milo and improve their relationship. Yeah well, like I said before, this book is just the same old bullshit. In fact, if it accomplished anything, it helped cement my hatred or Milo. Like, oh okay, he is just a bad dude. There was even a point at the height of his bullshit where my eyes started watering, I was so mad! Granted, I read the last half of the book on the beach, wind all blowing sand into my eyes and shit, but I’m still going to blame Milo. He’s becoming my Dinkleberg. Miloo~oo! I can only say his name with derision and anger.

The thing is, I’m a bit of a contrarian in the sense that if a character is loved by every other character within the narrative, then I hate them. The end. It’s the “Jim from The Office� problem, where everybody thinks he’s so charming and cute and adorable, and I’m left over here asking� why? Jim started out as the audience surrogate, the everyman, but eventually he became a writer’s pet who could do no wrong. Even his marriage with Pam in the later seasons had similar shades to Milo and Amory from this series, in that the writers would constantly put Jim in situations where women would fall at his feet. Though, of course, this was never to the fault of Jim from The Office. Poor Jim from The Office, our good pal Jim from The Office, he simply can't help it that everyone loves him! These characters often become a weird mix of stand-ins for the author’s own opinions, an image of the kind of person the writers want to be, or even their dream partner. They start to exist outside the narrative and become silly caricatures rather than real characters that affect the story they exist in. I'm always seeing this character archetype showing up in whatever random thing I'm watching or reading, and guess what? They're always the worst part of whatever story their involved in! Jim from The Office, Mamoru (though, oddly not when he's Tuxedo Mask) from Sailor Moon, Donna from Parks and Recreation, literally every guest star to ever show up on Empire (Ne-Yo, Becky G, Alicia Keys), they're all boo~ooring! My problem is that Milo apparently loves his wife, yet still forces her into the �hysterical woman" role while he can sit back in all his smirking amusement, seeing himself as just so perfectly rational. Yawn. Now, I would say that this could have easily been a powerful statement on quieter forms of misogyny, but there’s just one little problem� the Amory Ames mystery books are a romance. We’re supposed to be swooning over Amory and Milo’s relationship. While yeah, I guess the writing is still impeccable, but I can’t say with confidence that Milo is written with the intention of character deconstruction. It’s in the little things, like how he’s described as the most handsome man on the planet, or how he can charm every woman he talks to, or even how he can face life-threatening danger with nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a Marvel movie quip. Are we� are we actually supposed to like this tool? Sure, Milo isn’t ever written with the idea that he’s a saint or a perfect husband, but given all the excuses he’s allowed narratively (like how the other woman kisses him or how he was actually helping with the case), I’m thinking that all his shitty behavior is actually supposed to make him, like, darkly sexy or something, but he surely can't be that alluring, right? I was mystified to the point where I even looked up handsome movie stars in the olden days to understand the image that Milo's supposed to evoke, and it's like "fossil, fossil, oh Buster Keaton was cute, fossil," so that didn't help much. Death Wears a Mask does make a valiant enough effort to pose bigger questions, yet I’m left feeling all the more disappointed when the answers to said questions don’t live up to the promise.

I mean, the big theme of this book is Amory threatening to divorce Milo after he’s caught, on CAMERA kissing another woman. He’s proven innocent (again), but I don’t know, the way he gives Amory a billion rational reasons as to what actually happened came across creepily like he was gaslighting her. He’s worse than David from the Truly Devious series! This. Guy. Sucks. Ass. Again, I wouldn’t have an issue with any of this if it weren’t advertised as a romance! No offence, but if you want to write a cheating story, then write one. You can’t just create a story with all the shades of one and then rug pull the whole thing at the end to justify a happy ending. Gillian Flynn wouldn’t do me like this! I’ve got to say, I’m a little embarrassed at how angry this book made me. Seriously, I was sitting there affronted like I was the one Milo wronged! I feel like I should chill and stop getting so emotional about this haha. Hipster alert, but while every else is crying over Heartstopper I’m over here making break-up playlists for fictional scorned women in a 1930’s murder mystery written ten years ago. But you know, maybe I’ve been relating a little too deeply to this story considering there’s very little here that’s actually made with people like me in mind. What I mean is that the constant relationship troubles of Amory and Milo isn’t the only thing that has me getting increasingly weary of this series, because it was with this installment that I realized with shocking clarity that people like me, queer folks and people of color, don’t seem to exist in Ashley Weaver’s pretty little glamourous and idealized image of the 1930’s. I don’t mean this as a condemnation, it’s just a statement of fact. So what's my point here? Well, maybe I should stop caring as much as I do about a book series where I'm clearly not the target demographic. Still, it’s a bit of a bummer, is all I’m saying, because the Amory Ames books were some of the first mysteries that made me fall in love with the genre, and now I'm scared to keep reading them because I might not like them as much anymore. Maybe I should step back for a while, you know? Hm, should I try taking up Heartstopper? I've heard it's pretty good by literally everyone on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ. So much so, that I've kind of already read them by proxy. Anyway, I think my reread journey will be on pause for now, because these books are starting to stress me out. Death Wears a Mask is about robberies, and sure enough, the author robbed us of the chance at seeing Milo act like a human being for once and apologize. No really, half of my complaints about this novel would have been negated had he crawled on his hands and knees and begged forgiveness. That sound petty, but come on, the first rule of putting a character like Milo in a story, a character who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth, is to challenge them. Put them through the ringer! Like, what are we even doing here!? Because otherwise, the only real challenge is trying to get through this book without throwing it at the wall.

“Fair enough. You can’t blame a man for trying.� You could, in fact. But I decided that was an opinion best kept to myself.