Sameer Gudhate presents the Book Review of The Diary by Deepa Vishal

You know that little thrill you get when you pick up a book and within the first few pages, you sense it’s going to keep you up way past bedtime? That was me with The Diary by Deepa Vishal. I’d planned to read “just a chapter” before dinner, and well—let’s just say sleep was a distant dream that night. There’s something about the mix of an ominous premise and brisk, no-nonsense prose that pulls you right in and doesn’t let go. And here’s the thing: this isn’t some sprawling 400-page epic; it’s a novella, barely 70 pages. But the punch it packs? Bigger than many full-length thrillers I’ve read.

The setup is irresistible. Dr. Sushant Vaidya, a psychiatrist, finds a diary in his clinic. Harmless enough—until he flips it open and sees two words scrawled inside: Kill Him. Suddenly, this isn’t just forgotten stationery. It’s a ticking clock. Somewhere among his patients is a person ready to cross a very dark line, and he has only hours to stop them. That premise alone sets the stakes high, and what makes it deliciously gripping is how every patient could plausibly be the one behind those words.

Deepa Vishal’s writing is lean, crisp, and perfectly tuned for suspense. She doesn’t linger over unnecessary description; instead, she builds tension by giving us just enough—fragments of conversations, glimpses into troubled minds, sharp sentences that hit like jolts. The pace never slackens, and that’s crucial in a novella. It reminded me a bit of those classic “locked-room” mysteries but with a psychological twist. The structure is neat: each patient gets their own spotlight, and each chapter feels like peeling back another unsettling layer.

The characters, even in their brief appearances, feel textured. There’s the stalker, the jilted lover, the teenager teetering on the edge of psychopathy, the betrayed spouse—each with their own shadowy motives. What struck me was how Vishal managed to infuse empathy even into these potentially dangerous characters. You don’t just see suspects; you see human beings wrestling with pain, obsession, or betrayal. And then there’s Sushant himself. He isn’t just a detached professional trying to save a life; he’s carrying his own grief—the loss of his brother—which adds a quiet depth to his urgency. That personal battle makes him more than a narrative device; it makes him a man you root for.

The plot is straightforward in form but layered in impact. It builds on the classic “who among them?” tension, each chapter raising suspicion only to shift it again. The final reveal is satisfying—not a cheap trick but one that feels earned. If anything, I wished the book had lingered a little longer after the reveal. Some threads begged for deeper exploration. That’s the curse of the novella format: it forces economy, but in a story this rich, I found myself craving a bigger canvas. I wanted more of Sushant’s backstory, more of the patients’ complexity. Imagine this same premise as a 300-page novel—we’d be swimming in psychological nuance.

What I appreciated most, though, was how Vishal wove mental health into the thriller frame. The book doesn’t lecture, but it gently reminds you that behind every “suspect” is a wounded soul. It made me think about how quick we often are, in real life, to reduce someone to their worst moment, forgetting the messy battles inside them. That resonance stayed with me longer than the twist itself.

Emotionally, the ride was sharp and relentless. I found myself torn between dread—what if he doesn’t make it in time?—and compassion for the very people who might commit the crime. One line in particular about the corrosive nature of hate made me pause mid-read and just sit with it. Isn’t that the mark of a good thriller? Not just the rush of the chase, but the little truths it slips into your bloodstream along the way.

If I had to name the book’s biggest strengths, it would be its pace, its empathy, and its clever structure. Weaknesses? Only that it left me wanting more—though perhaps that’s not a weakness at all but a sign of a writer who knows how to leave her readers hungry.

Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Especially if you’re like me and love a one-sitting, edge-of-your-seat read. It’s perfect for a weekend afternoon when you want to be transported but don’t have the patience for a doorstopper. If you enjoy psychological thrillers in the vein of Gillian Flynn or Keigo Higashino—though simpler and swifter—you’ll find yourself at home here.

By the time I closed the book, I had that rare combination of satisfaction and restlessness—the feeling that I’d read something complete, yet also something that could have grown into more. I’ll be keeping an eye out for Deepa Vishal’s next work, because this debut suggests a voice worth following. For me, The Diary lands at a strong 4.5 out of 5—short, sharp, and stirring.

And honestly, the next time I see a diary lying around unattended, I’m not sure I’ll pick it up so casually. Some words are heavier than they look.

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