I have no idea why Stephenie Meyer decided to write a spy thriller. This is a woman not only famous for writing long plotless books devoid of suspense, but for her aversion to writing any kind of action scenes. 
 But she did it anyway... and while slightly better than her notorious vampire books, "The Chemist" is a spy thriller that is distinctly low on thrills or original ideas, and high on soppy romance. This is a book so painfully generic that it might as well be called "Thriller," particularly as its slow-moving plot feels like it was made up as the author wrote it, entirely made up of genre cliches that she cobbled together from far better movies and TV shows. 
 The woman formerly known as Julianna Fortis used to work for a government agency that is so top-secret that it is just called "The Agency" (primarily because the author is not terribly imaginative). Her job: use her skills at molecular biology to interrogate people. No, really. But then they decided that she and her mentor Knew Too Much, and attempted to kill her. So for the past three years, she's been fearfully living off the grid, constantly surrounding herself with booby-traps and toxic weapons (like the poison earrings of DEATH). 
 Then a former coworker gets in touch with her, telling her that The Agency needs her to do one last job, namely getting information about a drug-cartel/terrorist organization from a seemingly ordinary schoolteacher named Daniel. But after capturing and interrogating the man, she realized that she's walked into a trap -- and despite help from an equally-burned black-ops agent, soon she's on the run with Daniel in tow. But then they discover that a terrible plot is brewing in DC, and that they may be the only hope for stopping the bad guys... or something. 
 Reading "The Chemist" is like reading a fleshed-out checklist of every cliche from single spy-thriller movie or TV show you've ever seen -- everything from the mysterious all-powerful government agency to the idea of a former agent who doesn't want to do the job anymore to the corrupt politician, etc. There's a heavy dollop of the Bourne movies, a smidge of James Bond, some "24" and "MacGuyver"... the list goes on. Add some soap opera cliches (a missing twin!) and you end up with a spy thriller that feels like it was written by a fifteen-year-old. 
 And if that sounds exciting... it really isn't.The book has long, desert-like stretches of mundane tasks and people hanging out in other people's houses, as well as the romantic part of the story. Occasionally something interesting happens, but it never lasts long, and is usually followed by another road trip to another place they'll hang out. The actual "plot" only restarts in the last quarter of the book, but Meyer's rushed handling of the dropped plot threads never achieves the epic scale that she hints at. 
 In fact, at times it feels like Meyer is simply making the story up as she goes, with out-of-nowhere twists that grow increasingly contrived and silly (the Agency sends the MOB to kill the heroine). Her writing style is more stripped down and utilitarian, but also sometimes rather bloodless, such as the interminable chapters where we simply hear about the booby-traps and disguises. 
 Part of the problem is that Julianna/Alex/Casey/whatever-her-name-is is just not a very likable heroine. Apparently I am expected to like and empathize with her because she's an unjustly-targeted fugitive, but she doesn't do or say anything to endear herself early on, and her transition from cold and clinical to a lovestruck bipolar mess doesn't help. And her constant "I am dark and tormented and dangerous, and only I know how horrible and evil the government that I still support is!" droning becomes tedious after awhile. 
 And lest anyone think that a female protagonist means there won't be any sexism, don't worry. The heroine's passive methods of attack and utter uselessness in a physical fight keep Meyer from having to write a woman kicking butt, and the romantic scenes have that squirmy undercurrent of male condescension. Oh, and the token hot woman is a sadist and hates other women. 
 It doesn't help that the love interest, Daniel, is a wet noodle of a character -- he's naive to the point of idiocy, perfect to the point of tedium, spouts horribly soppy dialogue ("You make every other person I've known seem insubstantial, somehow incomplete") and unquestioningly worships the heroine even after she tortures him. And while Kevin is presented as being an elite black ops agent, he also acts like a jealous teenage boy who keeps trying to help Daniel despite Daniel consistently mocking and treating him badly (even threatening him with a gun when he interrupts a tryst with the heroine). 
 Slow-moving and overflowing with cliches, "The Chemist" is a slow slog of a thriller -- while it has some interesting ideas, Stephenie Meyer takes way too long to actually use them. Skip this one, and just watch some James Bond.