Holly Jackson’s eagerly anticipated sequel, Good Girl, Bad Blood, thrusts us back into the unsettling world of Little Kilton, where investigative podcaster Pip Fitz-Amobi had sworn off detective work forever. Yet, as Jackson masterfully demonstrates, some promises are impossible to keep when someone you care about vanishes without a trace.
The second installment in Jackson’s gripping A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder series finds Pip living in the aftermath of her previous investigation’s success. Her true-crime podcast has gone viral, but rather than celebrating, she’s retreating from the spotlight, insisting her sleuthing days are behind her. This character evolution immediately establishes the psychological weight that defines the entire narrative.
A Disappearance That Changes Everything
When Jamie Reynolds, the older brother of Pip’s close friend Connor, disappears on the same night Little Kilton holds a memorial for Andie Bell and Sal Singh, the police dismiss it as a low-risk missing person case. Jamie, they argue, has a history of leaving without contact. But Connor and his stepmother Joanna know something is different this time. The setup is deceptively simple, yet Jackson weaves layers of complexity that gradually reveal themselves through Pip’s reluctant investigation.
The timing of Jamie’s disappearance is particularly haunting. The anniversary memorial creates an atmosphere thick with unresolved grief and community trauma, suggesting that the past continues to cast shadows over Little Kilton’s present. Jackson’s decision to anchor the mystery in this specific moment demonstrates her sophisticated understanding of how collective memory shapes individual fate.
The Catfish Web: Layla Mead’s Digital Deception
Jackson’s exploration of online identity and digital manipulation proves to be one of the novel’s strongest elements. The mysterious Layla Mead, who has been communicating with Jamie and several other local men through dating apps, emerges as a figure of calculated deception. Through meticulous investigation, Pip discovers that Layla uses stolen photographs of a local girl named Stella Chapman, creating an elaborate false persona that ensnares multiple victims.
The author’s treatment of catfishing transcends typical thriller tropes by examining the psychological vulnerabilities that make such deceptions possible. Jamie’s insecurities about his age and relationship failures make him particularly susceptible to Layla’s manipulations. Jackson doesn’t simply present digital deception as a plot device; she explores how loneliness and desperation create perfect conditions for exploitation.
Child Brunswick: A Haunting Connection to Real Horror
The revelation that Jamie’s disappearance connects to the historical case of the “Monster of Margate” represents Jackson’s most ambitious narrative gambit. The story of Scott Brunswick, a serial killer who used his ten-year-old son to lure victims, introduces a layer of moral complexity that elevates the thriller beyond typical YA mystery conventions.
Child Brunswick, now an adult living under a protected identity, becomes the target of a years-long revenge plot orchestrated by Charlie Green, whose sister Emily was the final victim of the Brunswick murders. The ethical questions surrounding punishment, justice, and the possibility of redemption create genuine moral ambiguity that refuses easy answers.
Jackson’s handling of this historical element demonstrates remarkable sensitivity while maintaining narrative tension. She avoids sensationalizing real crime by focusing on the lasting psychological impact on survivors and the impossible questions of justice that persist long after official verdicts.
Character Development: Pip’s Dangerous Evolution
Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Good Girl, Bad Blood is Pip’s character transformation. No longer the determined but ultimately optimistic student from the first book, she now carries visible scars from her previous investigation. The weight of publicity, guilt over her family’s endangered safety, and the moral compromises she made have fundamentally changed her.
Jackson refuses to let Pip remain static. Instead, she crafts a protagonist wrestling with the addictive nature of investigation and the growing realization that her methods may not align with traditional notions of “goodness.” The moment when Pip declares “fuck likeable” and embraces her authentic self rather than others’ expectations marks a crucial turning point in her development.
This character evolution serves multiple purposes. It acknowledges the psychological toll of trauma while exploring how society’s expectations of young women can be both limiting and destructive. Pip’s journey toward self-acceptance, even when that self proves morally ambiguous, feels both realistic and empowering.
The Supporting Cast: Relationships Under Pressure
The relationships surrounding Pip face significant strain throughout the investigation. Her romance with Ravi Singh provides stability but also highlights the cost of her obsessive investigation style. Connor Reynolds’ desperation to find his brother creates a partnership built on shared urgency but unequal experience.
Jackson particularly excels in her portrayal of family dynamics under crisis. The Reynolds family’s complicated grief, Arthur’s defensiveness about his relationship with Jamie, and Joanna’s maternal anxiety create a realistic portrait of a family in crisis. These relationships feel authentic rather than constructed solely to serve plot functions.
Structural Mastery: Pacing and Revelation
Jackson’s control of pacing deserves particular praise. She maintains tension through a structure that alternates between podcast transcripts, investigation notes, and traditional narrative, creating multiple layers of storytelling that mirror the complexity of modern information consumption.
The author’s decision to reveal information gradually, often through seemingly innocuous details, rewards careful readers while maintaining surprise for casual ones. The use of Pip’s podcast as both a narrative device and a plot element creates interesting meta-textual opportunities while grounding the story in contemporary media culture.
Exploring Contemporary Anxieties
Good Girl, Bad Blood succeeds partly because it addresses genuinely contemporary fears. Online dating safety, digital identity verification, and the persistence of historical trauma in digital age communities all resonate with current social anxieties. Jackson doesn’t lecture about these issues but integrates them naturally into the narrative fabric.
The book’s examination of vigilante justice feels particularly relevant in an era of social media activism and public shaming. Charlie’s pursuit of Child Brunswick raises uncomfortable questions about the adequacy of official justice systems while refusing to completely condemn or endorse extrajudicial action.
Technical Craft: Dialogue and Voice
Jackson’s dialogue continues to feel authentic to teenage speech patterns without becoming dated or overly stylized. She captures the way contemporary young people communicate across different platforms—text messages, social media, face-to-face conversation—with remarkable accuracy.
The author’s ability to maintain distinct voices for different characters, particularly in the podcast segments and interview transcripts, demonstrates sophisticated technical skill. Each character sounds genuinely individual rather than like variations on the author’s voice.
Weaknesses and Missed Opportunities
Despite its considerable strengths, Good Girl, Bad Blood does suffer from occasional pacing issues in the middle section. Some investigative sequences feel repetitive, and certain red herrings don’t feel sufficiently developed to justify the attention they receive.
The resolution, while satisfying, relies perhaps too heavily on coincidence and perfect timing. The final confrontation, though emotionally powerful, requires several characters to make decisions that serve plot necessity more than psychological realism.
Jackson also occasionally struggles with the balance between addressing serious themes and maintaining the accessibility expected in YA fiction. Some of the historical trauma elements feel slightly underdeveloped compared to the contemporary mystery elements.
Cultural Impact and Genre Evolution
The novel represents an important evolution in YA mystery fiction. Jackson refuses to sanitize violence or provide neat moral resolutions while maintaining the genre’s essential accessibility. She demonstrates that young adult readers can engage with complex ethical questions without sacrificing entertainment value.
The book’s treatment of podcasting culture and online investigation reflects contemporary true crime fascination while examining its ethical implications. Jackson neither condemns nor celebrates amateur investigation but presents it as a complex phenomenon with both positive and negative consequences.
Comparison to Series and Similar Works
Within the A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder series, Good Girl, Bad Blood successfully avoids sophomore slump by deepening rather than repeating the original’s formula. It builds logically on the first book’s themes while introducing new challenges that feel organic to character development.
Compared to other YA mystery series like Kara Thomas’s work or Karen M. McManus’s One of Us is Lying series, Jackson’s books stand out for their commitment to psychological realism and moral complexity. The series feels more willing to examine the dark side of investigation and justice than many of its contemporaries.
Similar Reading Recommendations
Readers who enjoyed Good Girl, Bad Blood might appreciate:
- Sadie by Courtney Summers – Another YA thriller examining vigilante justice and podcast culture
- The Cheerleaders by Kara Thomas – For its exploration of small-town secrets and female friendship
- We Were Liars by E. Lockhart – For its unreliable narrator and family secrets
- One of Us is Next by Karen M. McManus – For its social media integration and contemporary anxiety
- Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson – For its blend of historical and contemporary mystery elements
Final Assessment: A Worthy Evolution
Good Girl, Bad Blood succeeds as both a standalone thriller and a series continuation. Jackson has crafted a novel that honors its predecessor while charting new territory, creating a reading experience that feels both familiar and surprising.
The book’s greatest achievement lies in its refusal to provide simple answers to complex questions. It acknowledges that justice is often imperfect, that good people can make terrible choices, and that the price of truth may be higher than we initially realize.
While not without flaws, Good Girl, Bad Blood establishes Jackson as a significant voice in contemporary YA thriller writing. She demonstrates that young adult fiction can tackle serious themes without condescension while maintaining the page-turning quality that defines effective mystery writing.
For readers invested in Pip’s journey, the novel provides satisfying development while setting up intriguing possibilities for future installments. For newcomers to the series, it offers enough context to be accessible while encouraging exploration of the broader narrative.
Jackson’s Little Kilton remains a place where secrets never stay buried, where the past refuses to remain past, and where the cost of truth continues to rise. In Good Girl, Bad Blood, she proves once again that some mysteries are worth solving, no matter the personal cost.