Tags
closed-room murder, fiction, hotel, murder mystery, mystery, neurodivergence, neurodivergent protagonist, New York
In Nita Prose’s The Maid, 25-year-old Molly Gray is learning how to navigate the world alone after her Gran’s recent death. She struggles with social cues and others’ intentions, but she loves the rules, clarity, and expectations of her work as a maid at the Regency Grand Hotel. Despite the loss of her Gran, she is able to maintain order in her world until the day she discovers the body of Charles Black, a wealthy and well-known guest, in his room at the Regency Grand. Suddenly, the clarity of her world is upended, and Molly finds herself a suspect in an increasingly twisty murder case. In order to clear her name, she must figure out who actually murdered Black and learn who to trust among her colleagues and acquaintances, all while the police get closer and closer to arresting her.
I love the way Prose builds Molly’s world, starting in the Regency Grand Hotel and building out. Her descriptions almost give the feel of those New York City-set romantic comedies of the 90s and 2000s that are really love letters to the city they’re set in. (It is implied, though never stated, that The Maid is set in New York.) The prose evokes the grand hotels, tiny apartments full of character, and bustling streets that are so wonderfully portrayed in those films. It did take me a while to realize that the book is set in present day, though. The descriptions of the hotel and Molly’s idiosyncratic way of speaking made me the think that it was set mid-20th century until another character mentions texting. However, that misalignment only adds to the tone of Molly’s world because Molly understands much of her life through her beloved grandmother’s culture and references. (Her grandmother loved Columbo and, based on her descriptions of social behavior, Masterpiece Mystery shows set in the 1920s and 30s.) We see the world of the novel through Molly’s eyes, and it is easy to see why Molly so loves the Regency Grand Hotel and (most of) the people there.
That Molly is our audience proxy is key for our reading experience. Though Molly’s neurodivergence is never identified, she regularly discusses how she has trouble understanding social situations and people and had to practice with her grandmother. It is also implied that Molly does not have a diagnosis nor does she have the language to educate others on her neurodivergence, should she want to. As a result, we meet the characters and experience the plot the way she does, even as we ourselves might read a person or evolving situation differently. The characters that populate her life are a bit archetypal, though that also fits with how Molly’s understands social interaction. Despite that, the most important characters are fully realized, fitting into both Molly’s perspective and the larger world beyond the hotel. Additionally, the good and bad actors are obvious to readers much earlier than they are to Molly. Rather than robbing the mystery of suspense, though, the suspense comes from how she specifically will figure out what’s going on and reclaim her agency and her life through the investigation. It’s a unique and creative framing of the mystery that works well.
The mystery itself is a classic closed-room murder, and, for the most part, it is well-crafted, intriguing, and compelling. Unfortunately, Prose adds an epilogue revealing a twist that is unnecessary and undermines both the strength of the mystery and its solution and Molly herself. It introduces an element of ethical fluidity that is not in keeping with Molly’s character as she’s been established, particularly at the point in the story when the relevant situation supposedly happens. It is disappointing and adds to larger sense of Prose handling Molly’s neurodivergence somewhat clumsily and inconsistently, despite her authorial intentions. I seem to be kicking off a spree of enjoying a book yet hating the last chapter, but I truly believe the epilogue undoes all of the good work of the story for no reason.
Overall, I really enjoyed The Maid. Molly is engaging and endearing, and you can’t help but root for her, especially as she begins to realize that the people in her corner are her found family. The mystery has a satisfying resolution, at least until the epilogue. So much like The Lincoln Highway, I suggest you skip the last chapter and otherwise settle in for a rollicking whodunnit.