Dear Debbie by Freida McFadden
The woman dispensing advice was always the one who needed watching.
Some thrillers draw you in by making you feel like an accomplice. You realize the main character is crossing a line, but you keep turning the pages. Dear Debbie is that kind of story, and McFadden handles it with skill.
The setup is strong. Debbie writes an advice column, the kind that’s usually upbeat and practical, with readers sharing their problems and someone reasonable replying. But Debbie isn’t reasonable. Her husband just lost his job, she’s been quietly let go from the column that defined her, and all this pressure is changing her. Figuring out exactly how is the heart of the book.
The advice column drives the story. Readers send in their everyday problems, and at first, Debbie’s replies seem reasonable. Then her advice starts to take a darker turn, until it’s no longer helpful at all. When she suggests poisoning a husband with antifreeze, it’s not just a dark joke—it shows she’s stopped pretending.
What makes the book stand out is that Debbie never really drops the act. The advice-giver persona isn’t just a mask; it’s a role she hides behind. She comes across as helpful and in control, but she isn’t falling apart. She’s justifying her actions, which is much more unsettling.
By the end, the book quietly reveals that Debbie was always in control. The scattered events weren’t signs of her falling apart—they showed her tightening her grip.
The real achievement isn’t the twist, which seasoned thriller fans might expect, but how it changes your view of everything that came before.
The advice column, the act of normal family life—none of it was random. Because you thought you were watching someone unravel instead of someone carrying out a plan, you let your guard down. McFadden makes sure you notice that.
The book shows its weaknesses where it needs to.
The pacing feels carefully managed. McFadden keeps chapters short and the story moving, because slowing down would reveal the flaws in Debbie’s reasoning—the times her control should have slipped but didn’t, or when the plot needs her to be both clever and lucky.
The emotional side of her marriage fades in the middle. Cooper feels more like a source of stress than a real character. Debbie’s reasons for her actions—protecting her family, fixing injustice, acting fairly—sound convincing at first, but the story doesn’t dig deep enough into them to make them fully believable. She stays hard to pin down when she could have been clearer.
If you enjoy thrillers for their structure, this one works. The ending fits, and the story holds together. McFadden’s skill is clear. But what’s even more interesting is the deeper layer—what we expect of women in roles focused on caring and correcting, and what happens when someone in that role takes it to extremes.
Debbie is helpful. She’s fixing problems. She’s doing exactly what the column promised. A satisfying read.