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Over the course of the text, Grace’s rage cools, and her changing feelings regarding the murders she commits convey just how unsatisfying revenge is, even when a person’s sense of righteousness and justice never wavers.
While Grace is “emboldened by” the murders of Jeremy and Kathleen, her successive murders of Artemis family members are less fulfilling. She says, “I didn’t much want to kill Andrew Artemis. It had to be done, of course […], but I wasn’t prepared for one of them to be so, well, nice” (61). Afterward, her sadness and regret contrast with the satisfaction she expected. It doesn’t feel good to kill someone so “nice,” therefore Grace tells herself Andrew likely would have returned to the family fold eventually. Then, while she plots Lee’s death, Grace grows “bored of waiting around for these people to get in line with [her] plans” (145). Rather than feeling energized by her progress toward avenging her mother, Grace feels more like she’s checking items off a list. Once Grace has Lee hanging by the neck at Mile End, she says, “I think for a second about telling him who I am, but I can’t be bothered. I’ve never cared about Lee” (153). While she made sure Jeremy Artemis knew her identity and motive, Grace no longer reaps satisfaction from these revelations.
Though Grace speaks to Janine as she dies, giving Janine more attention than she did Lee, she hardly celebrates the woman’s demise. Of Janine’s demise, Grace says, “Well she died” (246), a statement completely devoid of emotion—no elation, satisfaction, or relief. Worse yet, Bryony’s death leaves Grace feeling out of control because she wasn’t present and doesn’t even know how it happened. The idea that Simon is alone gives her some satisfaction, but she acknowledges, “I was alone too” (276). Grace consoles herself with the thought that her kill list is now nearly complete with only “[o]ne more to go” (277). However, before she can kill Simon, she lapses into complacency, realizing how she allowed revenge to become a “damaging obsession” that permitted another woman to swoop in and steal Jimmy away. Then, after Grace’s arrest and conviction, Simon’s “accident” derails her hopes. She says, “I’d rather he lived another 50 years in ignominy and sadness than to die by fucking accident. What a cruel joke” (306). In short, none of the murders after the first one provide Grace with any pleasure or gratification, despite her success in making every single one of them look like an accident.
Though Grace gets away with the murders, she spends much of the novel consoling herself for her delays and failures. She claims that she moves on with her life “happily” after each one, but the narrative’s details don’t support this claim. Even Grace’s decision not to take trophies from her kills, after the first two, suggests that she gets no real pleasure from them and does not consider them worth remembering. Her ultimate goal, the Artemis fortune, is also denied her by the intervention of the half-brother she didn’t know existed. Thus, her experiences point to the unsatisfying nature of revenge again and again.
Both Grace and her half-brother Harry are quite proud, though for different reasons. While Harry sees himself as a product of his cultured upbringing, for which he credits his mother, Grace sees herself as a solitary antihero who is too intelligent and strong-willed to tolerate the lesser people all around her—including her mother, on whose behalf she seeks revenge. Grace’s narrative begins with her certainty that “readers would lap […] up” her story if published, and she insists the public would “pore over it,” making it a “bestseller” that would compel “the masses [to] rush to the shops to read all about the “attractive and tragic young woman” who committed such terrible crimes (3). Harry’s pride is evident in his emails to Grace, as he admits, “I’m pretty proud” (327), before smugly telling her, “you never would have managed [Simon’s murder, though] you gave it a good old go with the rest of them […]. But Simon […] would’ve needed more than vague plans and luck. It didn’t really look to me like you were working with anything else” (351). Harry claims he wants to lessen the blow of her “failure” by letting her know that he finished what she couldn’t, but he also seems to want her acknowledgment of his victory, since he can have no one else’s. However, both Grace and Harry make miscalculations that arise from their pride, especially relating to Kelly. Grace’s proud underestimation of her cellmate is demonstrated by the end of the narrative, and Harry’s is hinted at in the postscript.
Grace’s underestimation of Kelly gives Harry the leverage to blackmail her. She believes Kelly is an “undeniable moron,” and so never suspects her cellmate of being intelligent enough to outsmart her. Though Grace admits to “looking through Kelly’s diary since [she] landed in this prison,” she has too much pride to suspect that Kelly could find her own or that Kelly might realize that Grace snoops and so choose to omit certain events from her writing—like meeting with Harry (54). If Kelly believed her diary was private, she would likely have written about these meetings, unintentionally alerting Grace to Harry’s existence and intentions. Kelly is much savvier than Grace gives her credit for, in part because Grace is too proud to think that someone like Kelly could possibly deceive her. Though Grace admits that “Everyone here tries to get hold of everyone else’s possessions, tries to gain their secrets as leverage” (88), she thinks it can never happen to her (88). Even when confronted by Kelly’s interest in her and the “questions that make it obvious that [Kelly] knows more than she should” (194), Grace continues to think of her cellmate as an “empty vessel.” Grace’s pride persuades her that someone as intelligent and ambitious as she is could never be outwitted by a woman who “blithely ignor[es] her repeated incarcerations” and continues to commit the same crime again and again (194). This proud miscalculation opens the door for Kelly to hand Harry evidence of Grace’s crimes.
Though far less of the narrative is attributed to Harry, he too underestimates Kelly, even as he points out that Grace has made the same mistake. His final line conveys his arrogance, as he says he paid Kelly off and is “confident she’ll leave [Grace] well alone” (354). His confidence is immediately undermined by the novel’s postscript, in which Kelly contacts Grace, hinting multiple times at the power she has over her former cellmate. Further, Harry admits that Kelly thought of retaining hard copies of some pages of Grace’s notebook and even advised him about software that would protect his emails. A seasoned blackmailer, Kelly likely kept pictures of Grace’s notebook for herself (just as she retains Grace’s wooden spoon) and perhaps some evidence, too, of Harry’s exploits. Harry’s own pride prevents him from realizing that Kelly is now in a position to blackmail both him and Grace.
Grace’s experiences demonstrate that control is often illusory. Her narrative also reveals how her longing for control leads her to deceive herself. Grace says, “I am a master of self-control” (39), yet there are many moments when she clearly lacks it, most obviously when she is in prison and literally cannot control her own habits, movements, and even her belongings. Her daily routine in prison is established not by her own wishes or preferences but, rather, by the institution’s schedule; she must go to the laundry when she hears the bell, attend spoon-making class when she’s directed, even go outside for daily exercise when she’s told to do so. Grace admits that she entered an eight-month-long depression when she landed in prison, likely the result of her lack of control. When she was young, she had so little control over herself and her surroundings that this instilled in her a “raw fear” of being cold; as an adult, then, she fills her flat with radiators and heavy blankets. Her belief in her mother’s “weak[ness]” drives Grace to chase emotional strength, believing this will help her to avoid her mother’s fate of being further victimized by Simon’s family. Later, Jimmy gets engaged to a woman Grace hates, and Grace is convicted of a murder she didn’t commit—more evidence that she is not in control even as she continues to insist that she is. Even her exoneration from this crime was out of her control, all based on a video she didn’t know existed and which she could not have procured herself. In short, the circumstances of her childhood, trial, relationships, and imprisonment demonstrate Grace’s lack of control, despite her desire to believe that she retains it.
The narrative Grace is writing should be the one place where, as an author, she has total control, but even this is hijacked by Harry and Kelly. Grace’s last words to the reader are supremely confident. She is exonerated, home from prison, and she anticipates a “suitably indulgent dinner” with Jimmy; she says, optimistically, “Life feels like it’s finally unfurling and showing itself to me” (345). However, Harry’s emails make it clear that he holds all the cards—to use his metaphor—and Grace is denied access to the Artemis fortune. Finally, it is the long-underestimated and oft-maligned Kelly who gets the novel’s last word, a fact that must shock Grace, who has long thought of Kelly as an “empty vessel.” Even Harry appears to have underestimated Kelly, declaring himself “confident” that Kelly would leave Grace alone simply because he’s paid her off. Harry believes his privilege and relative wealth—his “better cards”—give him control, but he has inadvertently given the unscrupulous Kelly leverage over him, just as Grace did when she gave Kelly the spoon with her victims’ initials on it. His confidence in her silence is undermined by her note to Grace, and Grace’s confidence in Kelly’s stupidity is challenged by Kelly’s assurance that she will keep the spoon “safe” and knows what its markings mean. Kelly’s concluding note reveals that both Grace and Harry have believed in the illusion of control when in truth they were not in control at all.
Ultimately, Grace’s writing often betrays her desire to maintain a level of control she does not actually possess, and Mackie confirms this illusion by revoking Grace’s control over her own story.



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