I went into The Cleaner by Mary Watson feeling genuinely excited. The premise alone had me hooked: a young woman infiltrating an elite Irish neighbourhood under the guise of a cleaner, all in the name of revenge. Dark secrets, privilege, obsession, and a slow-burning quest for justice; it sounded like exactly the kind of morally murky thriller I love. And in many ways, the book is dark, sexy, and deliciously twisted… but only if you’re willing to wait for it.
The story follows Esmie, who travels to Ireland after her brother Nico returns home a shell of himself: expelled, addicted, and eventually hospitalised. Convinced that someone in The Woodlands, a wealthy gated community, is responsible for his downfall, she embeds herself in their homes, quietly observing, plotting, and peeling back their polished façades. It’s a chilling setup, full of emotional charge and simmering tension, and Esmie’s grief-fuelled determination gives the book its strongest pulse.
But here’s the thing: this is definitely a slow burn. Painfully slow at times. The early chapters felt repetitive; Esmie cleans, Esmie plots, Nico is in a coma, the wealthy are terrible, and the momentum never quite builds the way I hoped it would. I found myself drifting, waiting for the story to deepen or twist or escalate, and it only really sparked to life around the 90% mark. The final hundred pages, though, are a different beast entirely: fast, tense, twisty, and genuinely gripping. Watson clearly knows how to deliver atmosphere and unease when she leans into it.
Esmie herself is the standout. She’s obsessive, unreliable, and emotionally raw, and I found her fascinating even when her decisions made little sense. The problem is that the surrounding cast feels thin by comparison. The privileged families she targets come across more as symbols than people, which weakens the emotional stakes. Add in a few subplots that wander off without adding much, and the narrative sometimes loses its direction.
Thematically, the book explores privilege, invisibility, revenge, and the messy ways grief distorts our sense of justice. There’s a lot of potential here, and while the execution doesn’t always land, the atmosphere is consistently strong; dark, moody, and quietly unsettling.
So who is this book for? I’d say The Cleaner will appeal to readers who enjoy slow, simmering suspense and don’t mind suspending disbelief for the sake of mood and tension. It’s also a good entry point for those new to thrillers, as the plot is straightforward and the writing easy to follow. But seasoned thriller fans looking for tight pacing, layered twists, or complex character work may find it a bit too predictable and uneven.
The Cleaner is a dark, atmospheric revenge tale with a killer premise and a knockout ending, but it takes its time getting there. Uneven, intriguing, and ultimately memorable, even if not for all the reasons I expected.
With thanks to Penguin Random House SA.
