Wool by Hugh Howey.
Ugh, hate this kind of book. But I read all of it. So I must have not totally hated it. What I would call a task-oriented story. You've got a task, you dutifully do it, describe it, make it hard to do, add some suspense in the doing. OK, next task! Oh no. We're only 300 pages in and about finished and we wanted 500 pages. OK, throw a few more character/obstacles in there.

The explanation of why things are the way they are wasn't entirely uninteresting.  And you put that within a mystery with people being murdered and I guess that's a story. Absolutely not the sort of thing I'd ever write and my dislike of it explains why I've had such an extremely hard time with writing.

Dystopian sci-fi mystery. Everyone lives underground because the atmosphere is toxic. Turns out a lot is being kept from the people, because it's assumed they're too stupid to handle everything. Not a premise that totally makes sense in this setting, but hey the basic concept applies in reality. But just all so predictable and uninteresting. With a few exceptions you see where things are going throughout. Also drones on about things. Could have cut a hundred, maybe two hundred, pages.