Book Review: The Missing Half by Ashley Flowers with Alex Kiester

When I think about the books I have discovered while browsing the shelves of my local library, I reward myself with a broad smile and a metaphorical pat on the back for a job well done in this reading adventure that I enjoy so much. The interesting thing about The Missing Half is that I picked it up as part of a book haul from the library one afternoon. The plot seemed interesting, but I had no plans to start reading it immediately. Then, later that afternoon, I was on TikTok, or BookTok to be precise, and a booktoker named @Victoria.thatsit (whom I immediately started following) had posted a video about seven books with a disrespectful plot twist. One of those books was The Missing Half and watching that video propelled the book to the top of my reading list.

I read it in two days.

This is one of those novels that keeps you guessing, not just about what happened, but about why people act the way they do when faced with secrets, guilt, and grief. The story is so full of plot twists that they become part of its beauty and intrigue, with each revelation pulling you deeper into the emotional undercurrents of the narrative.

At the heart of the story is Nic Monroe, whose sister, Kasey, has been missing from their Indiana hometown for seven years. The mystery of Kasey’s disappearance continues to haunt Nic, and she is content to drown her sorrows, grappling with the silence and uncertainty that follow by making a devastating set of poor choices. This all changes when she is approached by Jenna Connor, who is dealing with a set of unanswered questions as her sister Jules has also been missing from the area for the same amount of time. Even though Nic wants to move on from the past, Jenna’s introduction into her life leads to a search for answers that becomes a journey through loss, identity, and the complicated terrain of sisterhood. The small-town setting makes the story feel both personal and hauntingly universal. In a setting where everyone knows everyone, beauty, claustrophobia, and intimacy intensify as buried resentments come to the surface.

Interestingly, in my haste to start reading the book, I was already halfway through when I realized it was written by two people: Ashley Flowers and Alex Kiester as her co-author. That discovery surprised me and gave me pause for thought, mostly because I do not often read works of fiction written by two people. The seamlessness of the narrative made it easy to assume it was the work of a single voice. It piqued my curiosity about how that collaboration worked: how were both writers able to blend style, rhythm, and emotional tone into a cohesive story? It reminded me of reading translated fiction: just as a good translation preserves the spirit of the original while giving it new texture, The Missing Half feels like the product of two creative minds perfectly in sync. As a fiction writer, I am fascinated by that process because writing fiction can be such a solitary experience until the editing and publishing phases begin. This book made me want to pay closer attention to stories written in partnership and examine what new kinds of resonance emerge when two imaginations intertwine.

But back to my review. One thing I admire about the story is that every character in this novel serves a purpose. No one feels extraneous. The authors use each person, whether central or peripheral, to move the story forward and deepen the reader’s understanding of the mystery and of human nature itself. The plot is an intricate web of connections, betrayals, and emotional revelations. On reflection, I realized that the authors had scattered breadcrumbs throughout the narrative in small details that seemed inconsequential at first but clicked into place only after the major plot twist was revealed. This is the kind of storytelling that rewards attentiveness.

The theme of sisterhood runs through the novel like an electric current. It is portrayed not as a simple bond, but as something layered with love and a unique brand of unspoken loyalty. Most of the story is told in the first person, from Nic’s perspective, and through her narrative, we catch glimpses of the emotional bond of sisterhood and how it can be redefined and reshaped by loss.

When someone dies, most people’s reaction is to slap some reductive, feel-good label on their legacy. Her smile could light up a room. He was the life of the party. The claims are so unblanketed, they leave no room for nuance, for reality.

[…]

Kasey and I were the kind of sisters without walls. We shared eyeshadow and bras and lip gloss. Hair from both of our heads intertwined in the same brush. When one of us got too much sunscreen on our hand, we’d slap it on the other’s thigh. Both of us knew every boy the other had ever had a crush on.

As Nic and Jenna’s stories intertwine, the authors capture the many ways people cling to one another, particularly through the memories that shape them after tragedy strikes.

Even though I was not completely satisfied with how the story ended, I have nothing but admiration for the craft and control that Flowers and Kiester brought to their work. Their language is vivid and inventive, the small-town setting is richly rendered, and their depiction of grief as messy, unpredictable, and deeply human is handled with empathy and grace.

The Missing Half is an engrossing, emotionally charged novel that is a testament to what happens when strong storytelling meets emotional intelligence. It is a reminder that the best mysteries are not just about uncovering what is hidden but about understanding what has been lost.