Hannah Deitch’s debut novel Killer Potential offers a darkly funny, razor-sharp examination of the American Dream turned nightmare. This provocative thriller follows Evie Gordon, an overachieving scholarship kid who graduates from an elite university only to find herself drowning in student debt and tutoring the children of the ultra-wealthy. When she discovers her employers brutally murdered and frees a mysterious woman bound in their closet, Evie becomes the center of a nationwide manhunt – America’s newest bogeyman, a class warrior out for blue blood.
The novel moves with heart-racing urgency across the American landscape, as Evie and her silent companion Jae flee from authorities and the media machine that transforms them into monsters. But beneath the road-trip thriller exterior beats something more complex: a scathing critique of meritocracy, social mobility, and the stories we tell ourselves about who deserves what in America.
A Plot That Refuses to Stay in Its Lane
Killer Potential begins as a fairly conventional thriller but quickly swerves into unexpected territory. Deitch demonstrates impressive narrative control as she builds tension through the early chapters. Evie’s discovery of the murdered Victors – wealthy banker Peter and his former-actress wife Dinah – in their Los Angeles mansion kicks off a propulsive chase narrative. The early momentum is exhilarating, particularly as the media begins constructing an elaborate mythology around Evie’s supposed motivations.
Where the plot occasionally falters is in its middle section. The extended road trip sequences sometimes drag, with repetitive stop-and-go rhythms as the fugitives move from motel to mansion to stolen boat. However, Deitch reinvigorates the narrative with her masterful handling of the novel’s central twist – the revelation that Jae has manipulated Evie from the beginning. This moment completely reconfigures everything we thought we knew and transforms the novel from a straightforward thriller into something more psychologically complex.
The novel’s final act, dealing with the aftermath of Jae’s betrayal, provides an emotionally resonant exploration of trauma and identity that elevates the book beyond genre conventions. Deitch wisely avoids neat resolutions, instead offering a haunting meditation on how our identities can be stolen from us – by the media, by institutions, and by those we trust.
Characters Who Refuse Simple Classification
Evie Gordon represents one of the most compelling protagonists in recent thriller fiction—acidly funny, ferociously intelligent, and fundamentally unreliable. Her narration crackles with mordant observations about class and privilege:
“I’m not a good or virtuous person: I want to make that clear. At this point, I wasn’t even going to call the police until I’d put some distance between me and the crime scene. I’d tell them the truth: Hello, Officers, I’m an SAT tutor, wrong place, wrong time, you know the story, you get it. Please get it. Sorry for fleeing but I didn’t feel like dying, not now, not today. Not for them.”
Deitch excels at making Evie simultaneously sympathetic and deeply flawed. Her class resentment feels earned rather than performative, and her self-awareness about her own pettiness makes her surprisingly endearing. The novel’s greatest strength lies in how it refuses to make Evie either a complete victim or villain—she occupies the messy middle ground where most humans reside.
Jae Park, the mysterious woman Evie rescues, represents the novel’s most fascinating character study. Her gradual transformation from silent, traumatized victim to complex antagonist is masterfully handled. The revelation of her true nature comes through meticulous groundwork rather than a cheap twist.
However, some of the secondary characters lack dimensionality. The Victors themselves never rise above cardboard cutouts of wealthy entitlement, and figures like Heath (Evie’s lawyer) and Harvey (her roommate) feel more like plot devices than fully realized individuals. This flattening of the supporting cast occasionally undermines the rich texture of the central relationship.
A Savage Critique of the American Meritocracy Myth
Killer Potential delivers its most trenchant commentary through its unflinching examination of the American Dream. Deitch dissects how the promise of social mobility through education creates a particularly cruel form of disillusionment:
“Slowly, the scales began to fall from my eyes. I could see now that I’d been sold a false bill of goods. And yet no matter how much literature I read, how much theory I fought to internalize, I still felt contempt for myself and my country-mouse naivete—for my family and where I came from, our tacky furniture and paper plates and coupon hoarding, our Holiday Inn vacations, and for my parents’ idiot faith in my talents and gifts, for my own idiot faith in the romance of social mobility, and for how magnificently I’d fucked up the possibility of fulfilling the promise of either.”
This exploration of class dynamics gives the thriller elements added weight. The novel suggests that the true American horror story isn’t the sensationalized manhunt for a killer, but rather the everyday violence of an economic system designed to keep people in their place while dangling the false promise of upward mobility.
Thematic Strengths
- Class consciousness that never feels like a lecture
- Media critique that recognizes the public’s appetite for monsters
- Examination of identity as something that can be stolen or imposed
- Exploration of social mobility myths without easy answers
Style That Cuts Like a Knife
Deitch writes with the confidence of a far more experienced novelist. Her prose is sharp and efficient, with a sardonic edge that perfectly matches Evie’s worldview. The novel maintains a fine balance between literary aspirations and genre pleasures – it’s smart without being pretentious, accessible without dumbing down its ideas.
The author demonstrates particular skill in her dialogue, which crackles with tension and subtext. Conversations between Evie and Jae exemplify this strength, as the power dynamics between them constantly shift through coded language and careful omissions.
Where the style occasionally falters is in some overreliance on internal monologue, particularly during the road trip sections. A few passages of Evie’s ruminations could have been trimmed without losing thematic resonance.
When Thrills Meet Political Commentary
Killer Potential joins a growing subgenre of thrillers that use genre conventions to explore social inequities. It shares DNA with novels like Samantha Downing’s My Lovely Wife and Oyinkan Braithwaite’s My Sister, the Serial Killer, which similarly blend dark humor with explorations of societal pressures.
How It Stacks Up:
- Pacing: Occasionally uneven but ultimately compelling
- Character Development: Exceptional for protagonists, weaker for secondary characters
- Thematic Depth: Ambitious and largely successful
- Writing Quality: Sharp, distinctive voice with occasional indulgences
- Plot Construction: Strong beginning and end with some sagging in the middle
Room for Improvement
Despite its considerable strengths, Killer Potential isn’t without flaws. The central twist, while effectively executed, requires some suspension of disbelief regarding how long Jae could have lived undetected in the Victors’ house. The novel also occasionally strains credibility in how easily the fugitives evade capture given the scale of the manhunt described.
The romantic/sexual relationship between Evie and Jae, while crucial to the plot, sometimes feels rushed in its development. Given the life-or-death stakes and Jae’s initial silence, the transition to physical intimacy occasionally lacks the psychological groundwork that would make it fully convincing.
Some readers might also find the novel’s bleak outlook and moral ambiguity challenging. Those seeking clear heroes and villains or neat resolutions might be frustrated by Deitch’s refusal to provide easy answers.
In the Final Analysis
Killer Potential announces Hannah Deitch as a formidable new voice in thriller fiction. Her debut novel demonstrates ambitious thematic reach, memorable characterization, and prose that cuts to the bone. Though it stumbles occasionally in pacing and plausibility, its strengths far outweigh its weaknesses.
This is a novel that uses genre conventions to say something meaningful about American myths and realities. It’s the kind of book that works superbly as a beach read while still offering substantial food for thought. Deitch has crafted a protagonist in Evie Gordon who stays with you long after you’ve finished reading – brilliantly flawed, darkly funny, and uncomfortably relatable.
For readers who appreciate thrillers with sharp social commentary and don’t mind some moral ambiguity, Killer Potential offers a compelling experience. It’s not a perfect novel, but its imperfections are part of what makes it feel so vital and alive.
Who Should Read This Book:
- Fans of psychological thrillers with unreliable narrators
- Readers who enjoy dark humor and social critique
- Those interested in explorations of class dynamics in America
- Anyone who appreciates complex female protagonists
- Readers who liked My Year of Rest and Relaxation or My Sister, the Serial Killer
A promising debut with moments of brilliance that occasionally stumbles in execution but leaves readers eager to see what Deitch does next. Hannah Deitch’s debut novel establishes her as a writer with killer potential indeed – one whose keen observations about class, identity, and American dreams make her a voice worth following.