I went into Equation by Hubert-Richard Clarke expecting a straightforward crime thriller, but I found something a little different. The book starts with a lot of atmosphere; orange sunrises, ocean waves, and a detective carrying grief like an extra limb. From the very first page, there’s this weight hanging over everything, and I can tell the whole story is moving towards something dark.
The plot follows Detective Jaydon Lynch, who’s trying to piece together a series of murders connected by strange mathematical symbols. Along the way, we meet the Colburn family; Caitlyn, her husband Benjamin, and their two kids, whose lives take a sharp turn after a single phone call. The book flips between these characters and a few others until they all start overlapping.
What stands out the most is how Equation plays with mood. The writing zooms in on tiny details; how the light falls in a room, the way a character’s mind drifts mid-conversation. It makes the whole thing feel dreamy, like you’re watching the story unfold through fogged-up glass. There’s this constant sense that something is off, even before anything bad happens.
Caitlyn’s storyline is one of the most gripping parts of the book. One minute, she’s a regular suburban mum making breakfast for her kids. The next, she’s holding a gun with no memory of how she got there. The way the novel plays with her fractured mind and how the gaps in her memory mirror the gaps in the plot make her the character I cared about the most.
The whole mathematical equation angle is where things get weird. The symbols scribbled on walls, the strange phone calls, the way characters keep talking about the void; it all hints at something bigger beneath the surface. But the book never fully explains what’s happening. Is it supernatural? Psychological? Or just coincidence? The story leaves a lot of those questions hanging, which some readers might love and others might find frustrating.
Another thing is the slow pacing. Equation is not the kind of book that hands itself over easily. The book spends a lot of time inside the characters’ heads, especially Jaydon’s. He’s haunted by his past, popping pills just to get through the day. His whole life feels like it’s slipping through his fingers, and the writing really lingers on that emptiness. If you’re someone who likes action-packed thrillers, this might drag a little.
At times, the descriptions are really vivid and cinematic. Other times, the language gets a little too flowery, especially when the characters start reflecting on life and the universe. The dialogue can feel a bit stiff, too, like the characters are saying exactly what the plot needs them to say, rather than talking like actual people.
Overall, Equation is more about mood than plot. It’s not the kind of book that ties everything up neatly or delivers big twists. It’s slow, strange, and leaves a lot unsaid. If you’re in the mood for something atmospheric and a little unsettling, it might be your thing. But if you’re looking for a traditional crime thriller, you might struggle to push through to the end. But all the same, it’s worth a read.
Save as PDF