Anna-Marie McLemore’s adult debut, The Influencers, arrives at a cultural moment when the first generation of children raised on social media are finally old enough to tell their own stories. What emerges is a sophisticated mystery thriller that uses the genre’s conventions to deliver a devastating critique of how digital capitalism commodifies childhood and family relationships.
The Premise: Where Instagram Meets Agatha Christie
When August Ingraham, husband of mega-influencer “Mother May I” Iverson, is found dead at the bottom of a marble staircase in their burnt mansion, suspicion immediately falls on May’s five mixed-race daughters. April, the eldest, is locked in intellectual property battles with her mother. Twins June and July run their own successful “Summer Girls” brand while threatening to eclipse May’s influence. January works in theater tech, deliberately staying in the shadows. And March? March has mysteriously vanished entirely, leaving behind only questions and a carefully constructed absence.
McLemore structures the narrative as a day-by-day countdown following the murder, alternating between the perspectives of the Iverson daughters and a Greek chorus of online followers who dissect every detail with the obsessive dedication of true crime enthusiasts. This innovative narrative device transforms readers into participants in the very phenomenon the book critiques—we become the watchers watching the watchers.
Character Development: Complex Women in an Exploitative System
The genius of The Influencers lies in how Anna-Marie McLemore refuses to paint any character as purely victim or villain. May Iverson emerges as a complex figure who genuinely believes she’s given her children everything while simultaneously exploiting their childhoods for content. Her daughters are equally nuanced—damaged by their upbringing yet complicit in perpetuating the systems that harmed them.
June embodies the performative excess of influencer culture, someone who “posed more than she lived” yet isn’t afraid to show ugly moments. July, initially presented as the gentler twin, harbors a capacity for calculated manipulation that rivals her mother’s. April’s infertility struggles and business acumen create a character caught between wanting to escape the family brand and being unable to imagine life outside it.
The most compelling character development belongs to January and the absent March, whose story reveals itself gradually through flashbacks and implications. McLemore’s handling of March’s transition from the youngest Iverson daughter to Marc Iniesta demonstrates exceptional sensitivity, showing how gender identity intersects with exploitation in ways that feel both specific and universal.
Writing Style: Polished Prose with Sharp Social Commentary
McLemore’s prose sparkles with the same performative sheen as the influencer content it dissects, creating an unsettling mirror effect. Descriptions of luxury goods and lifestyle content are rendered with enough authentic detail to feel aspirational, even as the narrative reveals their toxicity. The author’s background in young adult fiction serves them well here—they understand how to make complex social dynamics accessible without oversimplifying them.
The multiple narrators technique works brilliantly, particularly the collective “we” voices representing different online communities. These sections capture the authentic rhythm of social media discourse while revealing how audiences become complicit in the exploitation they consume. McLemore nails the way online speculation can become its own form of violence, transforming real people into characters in a story their audience feels entitled to write.
Mystery Elements: Satisfying Resolution with Thematic Depth
As a mystery, The Influencers by Anna-Marie McLemore functions on multiple levels. The surface plot—who killed August Ingraham—provides genuine suspense and red herrings that keep pages turning. But the deeper mystery involves unraveling the psychological violence embedded in influencer culture itself. The revelation that the mansion’s expensive liquor was used as accelerant for the fire becomes a perfect metaphor for how luxury conceals destruction.
The resolution, when it comes, feels both surprising and inevitable. July’s role in the events leading to August’s death emerges through carefully planted clues that reward attentive readers while maintaining the story’s emotional authenticity. More importantly, the ending refuses easy closure—the legal resolution doesn’t heal the fundamental damage done to this family.
Social Commentary: Timely and Necessary
McLemore’s critique of influencer culture hits particularly hard because it avoids the trap of moral superiority. The book doesn’t suggest that May Iverson is uniquely monstrous; instead, it reveals how systems of digital capitalism create incentives for exploitation that feel natural and even loving to those trapped within them. The way May frames her daughters’ participation as “being loved and adored” while mining their privacy for content captures the insidious nature of this exploitation.
The book’s handling of racial dynamics adds another layer of complexity. The Iverson daughters’ mixed-race identity becomes another element of their brand, something May weaponizes for authenticity points while divorcing her children from their actual cultural heritage. This threading of racial exploitation through family exploitation creates a more nuanced picture of how multiple systems of oppression intersect.
Strengths and Minor Weaknesses
The Influencers by Anna-Marie McLemore succeeds brilliantly as both mystery and social commentary. McLemore’s prose is consistently engaging, the character development is sophisticated, and the thematic resonance feels urgent and necessary. The author’s decision to structure the narrative around the online response to the murder creates a reading experience that feels genuinely contemporary.
If there’s a weakness, it’s that some of the social media voices can occasionally feel repetitive, and certain secondary characters don’t quite achieve the depth of the main cast. Additionally, readers seeking a straightforward mystery might find the social commentary overwhelming, though this seems intentional—McLemore wants us to sit with the discomfort of recognizing ourselves in the audience.
Comparison to McLemore’s Previous Work and Similar Books
Fans of Anna-Marie McLemore’s young adult fantasy novels like When the Moon Was Ours and The Mirror Season will recognize their lyrical prose style and commitment to centering marginalized identities, but The Influencers marks a significant evolution in their work. The move to adult contemporary fiction allows for more complex explorations of systemic violence and complicity.
The book shares DNA with other recent novels examining digital culture’s dark side—Caroline Kepnes’ You series, Hanna Halperin’s Something Wild, and Curtis Sittenfeld’s Show, Don’t Tell. However, McLemore brings a unique perspective through their focus on family dynamics and their intersectional analysis of exploitation.
Verdict: A Must-Read for Our Digital Age
The Influencers by Anna-Marie McLemore represents a significant achievement in contemporary fiction. McLemore has crafted a mystery that works on every level—as entertainment, as social critique, and as a meditation on how love and exploitation can become impossible to distinguish. The book feels essential reading for anyone trying to understand how digital capitalism shapes family relationships and personal identity.
This is not just a book about influencers; it’s a book about all of us who participate in digital culture, whether as creators or consumers. McLemore forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about our own complicity in systems that transform human experiences into content. The result is a novel that will linger long after the final page, continuing to challenge how we think about privacy, exploitation, and the stories we tell about ourselves online.
Similar Books You Might Enjoy
- You by Caroline Kepnes – For psychological thriller elements and social media obsession
- The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid – For complex female characters and family secrets
- Such a Pretty Girl by Laura Wiess – For exploration of family exploitation and trauma
- Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty – For ensemble cast mystery with social commentary
- The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides – For psychological mystery elements
- My Education by Susan Choi – For complex family dynamics and identity exploration
