The snow that blankets Concord, Massachusetts on New Year’s Day becomes both witness and accomplice in Katie Bernet’s audacious debut thriller. Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet opens with a discovery that shatters the March family forever: sixteen-year-old Beth March lies lifeless in the woods, her sequined dress catching the winter light like a disco ball at a funeral. What follows is not merely a murder mystery but an unflinching examination of how we remember the people we’ve lost and the stories we tell about them.
Bernet, herself one of three sisters and a self-proclaimed Little Women devotee, takes Louisa May Alcott’s beloved classic and thrusts it into the harsh glare of contemporary scrutiny. Here, the March sisters aren’t gentle heroines in hoop skirts but complex modern teenagers navigating social media fame, academic pressure, and the toxic aftermath of their father’s controversial bestseller. Rob March has written a novel called Little Women that fictionalizes his daughters’ lives, killing off Beth in the narrative and sparking both protests and death threats. When Beth actually dies months later, the line between fiction and reality becomes terrifyingly blurred.
The Architecture of Grief and Suspicion
The narrative structure of Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet proves as intricate as the mystery itself. Bernet employs multiple perspectives—Jo, Meg, and Amy in the present, alongside Beth’s voice from the past—creating a mosaic that gradually reveals not just who killed Beth, but who Beth actually was beyond her family’s perceptions. The alternating timelines labeled “NOW” and “THEN” allow readers to watch the investigation unfold while simultaneously understanding the complicated dynamics that led to this tragedy.
Jo March, the aspiring author with hundreds of thousands of social media followers, becomes the natural investigator. Her chapters crackle with urgency and moral ambiguity as she wrestles with her desperate need for a compelling story and her genuine grief over her sister’s death. Bernet captures the unique torment of someone whose every emotion becomes potential content, who cannot stop analyzing even her own suffering through a narrative lens. When Jo discovers her notebook—filled with raw, visceral details of finding Beth’s body—in police custody, the question becomes chilling: Did she document a tragedy or orchestrate one?
Meg, the eldest sister attending Harvard, carries the weight of responsibility and secrets that threaten to destroy her carefully constructed life. Her chapters reveal a young woman caught between maintaining appearances and confronting uncomfortable truths about privilege, academic fraud, and the price of perfection. Amy, the youngest at fifteen, oscillates between bratty teenager and surprising emotional depth, her evolution throughout the investigation providing some of the novel’s most compelling character work.
Beth’s Quiet Revolution
Perhaps Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet‘s most impressive achievement lies in how it gives voice to the character everyone assumes they know. Through flashback chapters, Beth emerges not as the angelic, passive figure of Alcott’s original or even her father’s adaptation, but as a thoughtful observer struggling to define herself outside others’ expectations. Her relationship with Henry Hummel, her dreams of attending Plumfield music school, and her quiet resentment of being overshadowed by her more dynamic sisters create a portrait of someone desperately trying to live beyond the margins of someone else’s story.
The romance between Beth and Henry starts sweet but gradually reveals darker undercurrents. Bernet handles the progression with care, showing how love can curdle into possession, how devotion can mask control. Without spoiling the mystery’s resolution, the author demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of how young relationships can become dangerously codependent when neither party has fully formed their own identity.
Where Ambition Meets Execution
While Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet succeeds admirably in its ambitious goals, certain elements falter under the weight of its own complexity. The investigation generates numerous red herrings—Sallie Gardiner’s potential involvement in academic fraud, Fred Vaughn’s predatory behavior, even suspicions cast upon the sisters themselves—and while this creates appropriate suspense, some threads resolve too conveniently or receive insufficient development. Readers seeking the tight plotting of a traditional mystery might find themselves frustrated by tangents that promise revelation but deliver only misdirection.
The pacing occasionally stumbles, particularly in the middle section where the sisters pursue various theories that lead nowhere. While this mirrors real investigations’ frustrating dead ends, it can try reader patience. Some chapters feel redundant, covering emotional ground already thoroughly explored. The book’s length could have been trimmed by focusing more sharply on the central investigation rather than detailing every false lead in real time.
Additionally, while Bernet captures contemporary teenage voices effectively, certain dialogue exchanges veer into exposition that feels more author-directed than character-authentic. When characters recite their own backstories for readers’ benefit rather than natural conversation, the illusion briefly cracks. The social media elements, while timely, sometimes read like a checklist of contemporary concerns rather than organically integrated plot points.
Thematic Resonance and Literary Merit
Where the novel truly shines is in its meditation on storytelling itself. Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet asks uncomfortable questions about who owns a story and what we owe the people we write about. Rob March’s controversial novel serves as both plot device and thematic anchor, forcing readers to consider whether artists have the right to mine their own families’ lives for material. When Jo contemplates writing about Beth’s murder to salvage her book deal, Bernet doesn’t offer easy answers about where ambition ends and exploitation begins.
The meta-narrative grows even more complex when Jo ultimately decides not to write about the murder but to write about Beth’s life instead. This choice becomes the novel’s beating heart: the assertion that how someone lived matters more than how they died. It’s a powerful statement about memory, legacy, and resistance to sensationalism that elevates Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet beyond typical thriller territory into something more literary and lasting.
The sisterhood dynamics ring painfully true, capturing the specific alchemy of love and resentment that exists between siblings. Meg’s protective instincts warring with her resentment of being forced into caretaker role, Jo’s guilt over not being more present, Amy’s desperate need to prove herself worthy of the attention Beth never sought—these relationships feel lived-in and complex. Bernet understands that families contain multitudes: fierce love and petty jealousies, unwavering loyalty and moments of cruelty.
The Verdict on a Haunting Debut
Katie Bernet’s first novel announces a talented new voice in YA thriller fiction. While Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet doesn’t achieve the flawless execution of genre masters, its ambition and emotional intelligence compensate for its technical stumbles. This is a book willing to sit with discomfort, to examine grief’s ugly facets alongside its beautiful ones, to acknowledge that the people we lose were complicated and contradictory and human.
The resolution, when it arrives, proves both surprising and inevitable—the hallmark of effective mystery writing. More importantly, it feels emotionally true to the characters and themes Bernet has developed throughout. The epilogue provides satisfying closure while acknowledging that some wounds never fully heal, some questions remain unanswered, and that moving forward means carrying the dead with us rather than leaving them behind.
For Readers Who Loved…
If Beth Is Dead by Katie Bernet captivated you, consider these companion reads:
One of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus – For similar multiple-POV mystery structure and high school setting
We Were Liars by E. Lockhart – For family secrets and unreliable narration
The Cheerleaders by Kara Thomas – For small-town tragedy and sisterhood themes
A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson – For teenage amateur detective determination
You’ll Be the Death of Me by Karen M. McManus – For friendship dynamics amid murder investigation
A copy of this remarkable debut was graciously provided by the publisher, arriving like a midnight mystery wrapped in pink—a gift I repaid with sleepless nights and tear-stained pages, which feels entirely appropriate for a book about how we honor those we’ve lost.