In Hidden Bodies, Caroline Kepnes continues the dark and dazzling journey of Joe Goldberg, the disturbingly charming bookseller from You who redefined the line between love and possession. The novel plunges us into a sun-drenched Los Angeles, where Joe hopes to escape the ghosts of his crimes and reinvent himself. But in classic Kepnes fashion, what begins as a fresh start quickly decays into a rotting trail of manipulation, delusion, and “justified” murder.
Unlike You, which simmered with claustrophobic intensity in the corridors of a New York bookstore and the mind of a stalker, Hidden Bodies stretches out its limbs. It’s broader, louder, and darker—not in theme, but in satire. LA isn’t just a setting; it’s an ecosystem that magnifies Joe’s toxicity while offering him a new stage to perform his warped idea of love.
Plot Summary: Love, Lies, and the Lure of LA
Joe Goldberg isn’t running. He’s hunting. Amy Adam, the woman who conned him, has fled to Hollywood. And Joe follows, not for justice, not even for revenge in the traditional sense—but because Amy “betrayed” him and nobody betrays Joe without consequence.
In Los Angeles, Joe becomes a chameleon—working at a bookstore, rubbing shoulders with the fame-hungry, and eventually falling for Love Quinn, a woman he deems worthy of his attention. She’s wealthy, free-spirited, and perhaps more twisted than Joe himself. Love isn’t just another obsession—she’s the thing Joe wants to keep clean, untainted by his past. But this is Joe, and he’s always one mug of forgotten piss away from unraveling everything.
As Joe attempts to play boyfriend, barista, and pseudo-screenwriter, the hidden bodies from his past threaten to resurface. Amy. Beck. Peach. Benji. The skeletons in his closet—both literal and metaphorical—start rattling, forcing Joe to confront who he is beneath the persona he’s meticulously constructed.
Character Analysis: The Monster in a Cardigan
Joe Goldberg
Joe remains a paradox. He is both predator and victim, romantic and psychopath. Kepnes allows readers inside his head in the most intimate, intrusive way. We aren’t watching Joe—we are Joe, stuck in a stream-of-consciousness narration that is part Shakespearean soliloquy, part Twitter rant.
He judges LA’s shallow ambitions while participating in them. He despises liars while constantly spinning his own web of deceit. His contradictions are not flaws in character development—they are the character.
What makes Joe so unsettling is not his violence, but how he rationalizes it. He believes in fairness. He believes in love. And he believes he is the good guy. That’s the most chilling part.
Love Quinn
Love is not the innocent foil to Joe. She is magnetic, messy, rich with privilege, but emotionally hollow in ways Joe finds both frustrating and enchanting. Their relationship is less a romance and more a mutual hallucination. Love, too, harbors secrets, and this symmetry between her and Joe teases a thrilling game of who’s conning whom.
She’s the kind of woman who makes smoothies with raw eggs and takes care of Joe like a lost puppy—but you always wonder if she’s feeding him love or poison.
Amy Adam
Amy, though less present physically, is the engine of the novel’s early chapters. Her betrayal shakes Joe not because he lost money or face, but because he let someone get close enough to fool him. In Joe’s mind, that’s an unforgivable sin. Amy is the ghost Joe chases through Hollywood, and her absence becomes more powerful than her presence.
Narrative Style: A Mirror Covered in Blood and Glitter
Caroline Kepnes has a voice that’s undeniably her own—one that channels the obsessive lyricism of Nabokov, the nihilism of Bret Easton Ellis, and the pop-cultural verbosity of Chuck Palahniuk. But it’s always uniquely Kepnes.
She doesn’t just write a story—she lets Joe breathe his bile and brilliance onto the page. The sentences are biting, often hilarious, and terrifying in equal measure. You’ll find yourself laughing and recoiling within the same breath.
Joe’s inner monologue is filled with sarcasm, pop culture references, erotic fantasy, bookish superiority, and the occasional murder logistics. The language is stylized to match Joe’s delusion—verbose, narcissistic, oddly poetic. It’s a voice you can’t look away from, no matter how dark the reflection.
Themes Explored in Hidden Bodies
1. Obsession and Identity
Joe is always performing—he changes names, cities, even backstories—but his obsessions remain. Amy, Love, the idea of justice, control, and being seen. His shifting identity is both a survival mechanism and a symptom of a deeper psychological fracture.
2. Love as Justification for Violence
Joe doesn’t kill for pleasure. He kills for love—or so he claims. Every act of violence is couched in romantic reasoning. This twisted moral compass is what makes the narrative so engaging and horrifying. Kepnes forces readers to sit in the front row of Joe’s ethical theatre.
3. Satire of LA Culture
The Los Angeles of Hidden Bodies is drenched in superficiality. Influencers, improv actors, screenwriters, and baristas with screenplays. Kepnes skewers the city’s obsession with reinvention and image, showing how Joe fits in frighteningly well.
4. Technology and Surveillance
Ironically, for someone who fears being watched, Joe is a master at watching others. The book probes the invasive nature of tech—burner phones, fake social profiles, hacking passwords—while also nodding to the ease with which we broadcast our lives.
Strengths: Why This Book Hooks You
- Unfiltered Psychological Access: Joe’s internal voice is hypnotic, revolting, and addictive.
- Sharp Satire: Kepnes doesn’t just tell a story—she critiques culture with razor-sharp commentary.
- Elevated Genre Fiction: This isn’t just a crime thriller—it’s literary, self-aware, and intellectually engaging.
- Emotional Complexity: Despite his monstrous acts, Joe evokes empathy, even pity. That’s a bold accomplishment.
Weaknesses: Where the Blood Smudges
- Pacing: The novel lingers in the middle as Joe explores LA’s shallow scene. The tension dips before picking up again in the final act.
- Overloaded Pop Culture References: Sometimes the constant references and snark can feel exhausting or dated.
- Unreliable Depth in Side Characters: Love Quinn, for all her screen time, still feels more like a projection than a person at times. Kepnes prioritizes Joe’s perception, which means everyone else feels half-real.
The You Series So Far: Building the Cult of Joe
- You – Introduced us to Joe Goldberg and the terrifying idea of a charming narrator who rationalizes murder in the name of love.
- Hidden Bodies – Expands the universe and places Joe in a world that is arguably more dangerous than he is: Los Angeles.
- You Love Me – Puts Joe in a suburban setting, as he tries (and fails) to live a quiet life.
- For You and Only You – The latest in the series takes Joe into new environments, possibly academia, showing how his toxicity mutates but never fades.
Similar Titles You May Enjoy
- American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis – for the psychological immersion into a charismatic killer’s mind.
- The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith – for identity theft and dark obsession.
- Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn – for the manipulation, unreliable narration, and gender dynamics.
Final Thoughts: A Love Letter Soaked in Gasoline
Hidden Bodies is not just a sequel. It’s an escalation. It’s Joe Goldberg in a funhouse mirror—more distorted, more dangerous, more revealing. It asks uncomfortable questions about identity, morality, and how far we go to protect our narrative.
Caroline Kepnes writes with grit and wit. Her understanding of human psychology—particularly male entitlement disguised as love—is terrifying in its accuracy. In Joe, she has created one of fiction’s most compelling antiheroes. He’s the monster under your bed who recites poetry and holds your gaze until you almost believe he’s the good guy.
But don’t be fooled.
He’s not.
Verdict:
Recommended for readers who enjoy:
- Dark psychological thrillers
- Satirical takes on modern life
- Complex, morally ambiguous narrators
- Fiction that makes you squirm and think
Skip if:
- You prefer plot over character depth
- You dislike morally repugnant protagonists
- You’re uncomfortable sitting in the mind of a killer for 400+ pages
Hidden Bodies is less about solving a mystery and more about unmasking the greatest mystery of all—ourselves, and what we’re willing to justify in the name of love.