Hannah Deitch’s debut novel Killer Potential is a strange, discomfiting beast—part thriller, part dark comedy, part scathing critique of America’s bootstraps mythology. Like its protagonist Evie Gordon, the novel has ambitions that sometimes outpace its execution, but the sheer audacity of its vision makes for a compelling, if uneven, reading experience.
Killer Potential follows Evie, a debt-ridden SAT tutor to LA’s elite who stumbles upon her wealthy employers murdered in their garden. When she discovers a bound woman in a closet beneath the stairs, Evie’s decision to free her catapults both women into a cross-country flight from justice. As media coverage transforms Evie into America’s latest boogeyman—a class warrior targeting the one percent—she and her mostly silent companion Jae develop a complex relationship that blurs the lines between captivity and companionship, victimhood and villainy.
A Social Critique with Teeth
What elevates Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch above typical thriller fare is its caustic examination of social mobility in America. Deitch’s novel exists in that uncomfortable space where righteous anger meets moral ambiguity, asking whether the American Dream is just another ghost story we tell ourselves to make the nightmares bearable.
Evie’s bitterness about her station in life feels achingly authentic:
“You have so much potential, said my parents and my teachers. I’d heard that line my entire life. Surely their confident consensus had to mean something. I was a gravitational field, charged with ions, seeking a power line to electrify.”
The novel’s sharpest moments come when it dissects the hollowness of “potential”—how society dangles possibility before the striving classes while systematically denying them true advancement. When Evie muses, “The thing about potential is that it’s purely speculative: it’s the province of stock traders calculating their fantasy math,” Deitch delivers a line that cuts through American mythology with surgical precision.
Character Complexity: Unreliable and Unlikeable in the Best Ways
The greatest strength of Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch lies in its creation of deeply flawed, morally complex characters who refuse easy categorization. Evie Gordon ranks among the more fascinating protagonists in recent crime fiction—self-aware enough to recognize her own pettiness yet blind to her most damaging self-deceptions.
Evie’s cynical, often cruel observations about the wealthy families she tutors feel both inappropriate and thrillingly honest:
“Her shyness reminded me of the antisocial rich kids I’d gone to college with, roving across campus, chain-smoking and moody. I could see her future perfectly. An MFA in poetry, or a PhD in Early Modern Literature. Playing at bohemian poverty in a two-bedroom Victorian townhome in the Mission.”
Meanwhile, Jae emerges as the novel’s most enigmatic figure—a woman whose silence conceals depths Evie can’t begin to fathom. Their dynamic evolves in unexpected ways, creating one of the more intriguing queer relationships in recent thriller fiction, even as it reveals troubling power imbalances.
Structural Brilliance and Narrative Missteps
Deitch employs a clever structural device midway through the novel, shifting briefly to Jae’s perspective through written entries. This change provides necessary contrast to Evie’s dominant narrative and delivers the book’s most devastating twist with appropriate weight.
However, the novel struggles with pacing issues, particularly in its first half. The cross-country journey occasionally meanders, with stops that feel more obligatory than organic to the plot. Some readers may find themselves growing impatient with the repeated cycle of hotel rooms, stolen cars, and near-misses before the narrative delivers its knockout revelations.
The Horror Within the Walls
Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch contains elements of genuine horror that differentiate it from standard crime thrillers. The revelation of Jae living within the walls of the Victor house creates an uncanny atmosphere that lingers long after reading:
“There was no presiding logic to the architecture, other than nihilism. Illogic was its own rule. The hallways were wide enough for a broad-shouldered man to slink around without touching the walls, and they are as tall as any room. They were everywhere, creating space for themselves like organs, insisting on their anatomic importance.”
This architectural metaphor for class invisibility provides the novel’s most thought-provoking imagery. Jae’s ability to navigate spaces unseen while observing the wealthy becomes a powerful symbol for class relations in America—the servant class that both supports and haunts the lives of the privileged.
Stylistic Strengths and Weaknesses
Deitch’s prose shines brightest in its sardonic observations and unflinching depictions of violence. She has a talent for crafting memorable lines that blend dark humor with social insight:
“It’s nice to have things in common. I read a lot during the day. We were allowed ten books at a time, though legal books didn’t count, and Heath had lent me plenty of those.”
Less successful are some of the novel’s dialogue exchanges, which occasionally feel too clever by half, particularly in high-stakes moments that would benefit from rawer emotion. The self-aware cynicism that makes Evie compelling can sometimes keep readers at an emotional distance during pivotal scenes.
Key Strengths
- Unflinching examination of class disparity and the myth of meritocracy
- Morally complex characters who defy easy categorization
- Inventive structure that plays with perspective and reliability
- Sharp, sardonic prose that cuts through social pretenses
- Queer representation that avoids typical tropes and stereotypes
Notable Shortcomings
- Pacing issues in the middle sections slow momentum
- Some secondary characters lack dimension beyond their symbolic value
- Occasional overreliance on coincidence to drive plot developments
- Tonal inconsistencies between thriller elements and social commentary
- Ending that may feel either too ambiguous or too neat depending on reader preferences
Thematic Depth Through Genre Subversion
Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch cleverly subverts thriller conventions to deliver its thematic payload. The typical “wrongfully accused” narrative transforms into something more nuanced as Deitch examines how society constructs criminality along class lines. When Evie reflects, “how many times have I been called a murderer on television? How long does it take to become the thing you’re branded?” the novel raises uncomfortable questions about how narratives can shape reality.
The exploration of parasitic relationships—between tutor and student, poor and wealthy, host and inhabitant—provides the novel’s most consistent and compelling through-line. As Jae explains: “When you don’t have money, it doesn’t just transform the way you think, the way you’re perceived, the way you navigate the world. It transforms space itself. You live under a completely different sky.”
Comparisons and Context
As Hannah Deitch’s debut novel, Killer Potential shows remarkable ambition and confidence. Readers may find echoes of Ottessa Moshfegh’s misanthropic narrators, Patricia Highsmith’s moral ambiguity, and Gillian Flynn’s twisted relationship dynamics.
For those seeking similar works that blend thriller elements with social critique, consider:
- My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite
- Luster by Raven Leilani
- The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris
- Bunny by Mona Awad
- The Perfect Nanny by Leila Slimani
Final Assessment: Flawed but Fearless
Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch is not a perfect novel, but its imperfections are often part of its charm. Deitch has created a work that refuses easy categorization—sometimes to its detriment, but more often to its credit. The novel’s willingness to let its protagonist be petty, cruel, and self-deluded while still compelling reader investment represents a significant achievement.
While some thriller fans may find the pacing too uneven and the resolution either too ambiguous or too convenient, readers willing to engage with the novel’s deeper questions about class, potential, and American mythology will find much to appreciate in Deitch’s fearless debut.
At its most effective, Killer Potential makes readers uncomfortably complicit in its critique. We root for Evie and Jae even as we question their choices, much as we participate in systems we recognize as fundamentally unjust. In that sense, the novel achieves something rare: it entertains while refusing to let readers off the hook.
Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch is a compelling read for its originality, thematic depth, and memorable characterization, despite structural issues and occasional narrative missteps. Hannah Deitch announces herself as a talent to watch—a writer willing to explore the darkest corridors of American ambition with unflinching clarity.
Who Should Read This Book
- Readers who enjoy morally ambiguous protagonists and unreliable narrators
- Fans of social thrillers that blend genre elements with cultural critique
- Those interested in fresh queer representation in crime fiction
- Anyone who appreciates dark humor and satire of American class dynamics
- Readers who don’t mind narrative experimentation even when it occasionally stumbles
Like Evie Gordon herself, Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch contains multitudes—moments of brilliance alongside notable flaws, biting social commentary alongside pulpy thrills. The novel may not achieve everything it attempts, but its ambition and audacity make it a memorable debut from an author with considerable promise. In a literary landscape often defined by safe choices, Deitch’s willingness to take risks deserves recognition, even when those risks don’t entirely pay off.
