Maestra: This year�s most shocking thriller

It�s billed as a cross between The Talented Mr Ripley and Gone Girl, but can LS Hilton�s Maestra live up to the hype? Lucy Scholes takes a look.

Following in the footsteps of Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train, Maestra, the debut novel from journalist and art critic LS Hilton, has arrived with a fanfare of hype and is already looking set to be this year’s international bestseller. Despite the inevitable comparisons to Gillian Flynn and Paula Hawkins, if it’s as successful as expected, Maestra could well mark the end of this current obsession with ‘girl’ titles: love her or loathe her, Hilton’s heroine, Judith Rashleigh, is all woman.
Hard work, natural intelligence and a talent for faking it have seen Judith rise from her humble beginnings to a job in one of London’s most prestigious auction houses. But being an assistant at British Pictures isn’t the big break Judith hoped for, especially since she spends more time carting her boss’s dirty laundry to the dry cleaners than poring over Old Masters. Disillusioned at work and struggling with debt, a chance encounter with an old schoolmate opens the door to an evening job in one of Mayfair’s less salubrious clubs, working as a hostess entertaining overweight businessmen.
I should pause here and put a stop to any assumptions that this is a tale of Judith’s loss of innocence in a headfirst tumble down an adults-only rabbit hole. Sex between the girls and their clients is strictly out of bounds. That said, and as we soon discover, the rather pathetic fantasies and frolics of these middle-aged bankers couldn’t be a further cry from the sexcapades Judith already enthusiastically indulges in – Belgravia-based orgies described in all manner of explicit detail.
The shock factor
The novel is being billed as ‘the most shocking thriller you’ll read all year’. What exactly it is that’s quite so shocking about it though, I’m still trying to work out. It can’t be the sex. Yes, it’s graphic; certain scenes are sure to offend more prudish readers – an intriguing, though as far as I’m aware yet to be confirmed revelation about oysters, for example – but, if as Philip Larkin famously claimed, sex began in 1963, it was exactly 50 years later, during the height of the Fifty Shades phenomenon, that erotica went mainstream. I can’t be the only one to have seen so many copies of EL James’ trilogy being brazenly read on the morning commute as to assume that there’s little in terms of sex scenes that can shock the modern reader.
And the same can be said about the violence in the book. What initially seems like an unfortunate accident during an illicit weekend away on the French Riviera with her best client from the club, actually turns out to be just the first in a series of deaths in which Judith has an increasingly active and coldly calculated hand. As with the sex, Hilton doesn’t spare her readers any details – but why would she? As depressing as it is to realise, perhaps we’re supposed to be shocked by such a feisty female heroine, one who isn’t afraid to go after what she wants – wealth, sex and power, all in pursuit of “being the person I’d always known I was meant to be” – with the ruthlessness of a psychopath and certainly without any apology or concession to anyone who gets in her way.
But if this is the element of the novel that’s supposed to shock us, it’s not like we haven’t seen something surprisingly similar before. It’s hard to read Maestra and not picture Catherine Tramell, the knickerless, icepick-wielding bestselling writer-turned-murderer famously played by Sharon Stone in Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct, not least because of their voracious sexual appetites and bisexual tendencies. The implied connection between Tramell’s sexual and murderous inclinations angered gay rights activists on the film’s release in 1992, but the passing of 24 years has seen our understanding of the complexities of sexual identity and desire make enough headway to ensure this sort of negative press is no longer an issue.
‘Excess and opulence’
Instead, if we’re to question the political correctness of Maestra it’s probably in terms of Judith’s feminism, since, for all her empowerment and the pursuit of a destiny of her own making, she starts out on her path towards success on the arm of a sugar daddy, accepting Chanel purses for sex. It’s a transaction that she willingly enters into, but still one of the most repellent sex scenes I’ve ever read. And her entire conception of ‘making it’ is using her distinctly feminine charms to operate in what’s clearly still a man’s world.
Again, though, Hilton’s not reinventing the wheel. In her focus on the often gaudy panorama of European wealth, excess and opulence – the Hôtel du Cap, Portofino, Geneva; fine wine and gastronomic delights; champagne doused parties at the Venice Biennale; the constant name-dropping of haute couture designers and high-end brands – she’s writing in the tradition of Jackie Collins and Shirley Conran.
Although it’s being marketed as an erotic thriller, and despite Judith’s murky morals and involvement in a world of corruption, Maestra is more ‘bonkbuster’ than Highsmith or Hitchcock. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Indeed, given that Hilton can both actually write and plot, I see no reason why this 21st-Century take on the genre shouldn’t be as popular as those that preceded it.
And I would much rather read what’s in essence an entertaining and thoroughly escapist romp with a commanding femme fatale at the helm than last year’s runaway hit, the depressingly misogynistic and ultimately rather dull The Girl on the Train. Apparently the first in a trilogy, I have to admit that even though Maestra doesn’t live up to the wild claims made for its originality, I’m still intrigued to see what Judith gets up to next.    —BBC

Maestra: This year�s most shocking thriller

It�s billed as a cross between The Talented Mr Ripley and Gone Girl, but can LS Hilton�s Maestra live up to the hype? Lucy Scholes takes a look.

Following in the footsteps of Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train, Maestra, the debut novel from journalist and art critic LS Hilton, has arrived with a fanfare of hype and is already looking set to be this years international bestseller. Despite the inevitable comparisons to Gillian Flynn and Paula Hawkins, if its as successful as expected, Maestra could well mark the end of this current obsession with girl titles: love her or loathe her, Hiltons heroine, Judith Rashleigh, is all woman. Hard work, natural intelligence and a talent for faking it have seen Judith rise from her humble beginnings to a job in one of Londons most prestigious auction houses. But being an assistant at British Pictures isnt the big break Judith hoped for, especially since she spends more time carting her bosss dirty laundry to the dry cleaners than poring over Old Masters. Disillusioned at work and struggling with debt, a chance encounter with an old schoolmate opens the door to an evening job in one of Mayfairs less salubrious clubs, working as a hostess entertaining overweight businessmen. I should pause here and put a stop to any assumptions that this is a tale of Judiths loss of innocence in a headfirst tumble down an adults-only rabbit hole. Sex between the girls and their clients is strictly out of bounds. That said, and as we soon discover, the rather pathetic fantasies and frolics of these middle-aged bankers couldnt be a further cry from the sexcapades Judith already enthusiastically indulges in Belgravia-based orgies described in all manner of explicit detail. The shock factor The novel is being billed as the most shocking thriller youll read all year. What exactly it is thats quite so shocking about it though, Im still trying to work out. It cant be the sex. Yes, its graphic; certain scenes are sure to offend more prudish readers an intriguing, though as far as Im aware yet to be confirmed revelation about oysters, for example but, if as Philip Larkin famously claimed, sex began in 1963, it was exactly 50 years later, during the height of the Fifty Shades phenomenon, that erotica went mainstream. I cant be the only one to have seen so many copies of EL James trilogy being brazenly read on the morning commute as to assume that theres little in terms of sex scenes that can shock the modern reader. And the same can be said about the violence in the book. What initially seems like an unfortunate accident during an illicit weekend away on the French Riviera with her best client from the club, actually turns out to be just the first in a series of deaths in which Judith has an increasingly active and coldly calculated hand. As with the sex, Hilton doesnt spare her readers any details but why would she? As depressing as it is to realise, perhaps were supposed to be shocked by such a feisty female heroine, one who isnt afraid to go after what she wants wealth, sex and power, all in pursuit of being the person Id always known I was meant to be with the ruthlessness of a psychopath and certainly without any apology or concession to anyone who gets in her way. But if this is the element of the novel thats supposed to shock us, its not like we havent seen something surprisingly similar before. Its hard to read Maestra and not picture Catherine Tramell, the knickerless, icepick-wielding bestselling writer-turned-murderer famously played by Sharon Stone in Paul Verhoevens Basic Instinct, not least because of their voracious sexual appetites and bisexual tendencies. The implied connection between Tramells sexual and murderous inclinations angered gay rights activists on the films release in 1992, but the passing of 24 years has seen our understanding of the complexities of sexual identity and desire make enough headway to ensure this sort of negative press is no longer an issue. Excess and opulence Instead, if were to question the political correctness of Maestra its probably in terms of Judiths feminism, since, for all her empowerment and the pursuit of a destiny of her own making, she starts out on her path towards success on the arm of a sugar daddy, accepting Chanel purses for sex. Its a transaction that she willingly enters into, but still one of the most repellent sex scenes Ive ever read. And her entire conception of making it is using her distinctly feminine charms to operate in whats clearly still a mans world. Again, though, Hiltons not reinventing the wheel. In her focus on the often gaudy panorama of European wealth, excess and opulence the Htel du Cap, Portofino, Geneva; fine wine and gastronomic delights; champagne doused parties at the Venice Biennale; the constant name-dropping of haute couture designers and high-end brands shes writing in the tradition of Jackie Collins and Shirley Conran. Although its being marketed as an erotic thriller, and despite Judiths murky morals and involvement in a world of corruption, Maestra is more bonkbuster than Highsmith or Hitchcock. Not that theres anything wrong with that. Indeed, given that Hilton can both actually write and plot, I see no reason why this 21st-Century take on the genre shouldnt be as popular as those that preceded it. And I would much rather read whats in essence an entertaining and thoroughly escapist romp with a commanding femme fatale at the helm than last years runaway hit, the depressingly misogynistic and ultimately rather dull The Girl on the Train. Apparently the first in a trilogy, I have to admit that even though Maestra doesnt live up to the wild claims made for its originality, Im still intrigued to see what Judith gets up to next. BBC