Few books have left me as disturbed and creeped out as A Haunting in the A4.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
Few books have left me as disturbed and creeped out as A Haunting in the Arctic by C.J. Cooke. This novel delves into the depths of psychological terror and trauma, weaving a narrative that is both addictive and profoundly unsettling.
The story is told in two timelines, first opening in Dundee, Scotland in 1901 with Nicky, a young woman whose father owns the whaling ship Ormen. Times have been hard for her–following a devastating loss, her husband has gone off to war, leaving her alone. After receiving some unnerving news about her father’s business, Nicky heads to the park and is suddenly attacked and abducted. When she wakes, she finds herself inexplicably aboard the Ormen, beginning its months-long voyage to Icelandic waters. As the ship carries her further away from home, Nicky realizes with horror what the crew intends for her.
Meanwhile, the second timeline unfolds in the present day. The wreck of a whaling ship, determined to be the Ormen, has washed ashore in the arctic. A young explorer named Dominique is determined to make her way to the site to document the wreck and find out what happened to it in its last days before it is scheduled to be destroyed. Initially traveling alone, her plans hit a snag when she encounters a trio of adventurers heading to Iceland to do exactly the same thing. Ultimately deciding to team up, the group makes it to the shipwreck only to find themselves stalked by an eerie presence on the ice while trapped in a storm.
Before I proceed with my review, it must first be noted that A Haunting in the Arctic is not for the faint of heart. It is one of the darkest books I’ve read in a while, unapologetic in its portrayal of human suffering. There are sensitive and distressing themes aplenty, most of them dealing with sexual assault and violence. Although these are woven into the very bones of the novel, integral to its premise and progression, the detailed depiction of such scenes may prove distressing to some. Therefore, reader discretion is strongly advised.
That said, this is my third book by C.J. Cooke, and it might be my favorite yet. The author’s strength has always been her remarkable talent for crafting immersive atmospheres, which she displayed even in her earlier novels, The Nesting and The Lighthouse Witches. In A Haunting in the Arctic, Cooke’s prose again brings the setting to life, evoking a palpable sense of isolation and dread.
For all its bleakness though, the novel also contains moments of deep and powerful emotion, exploring themes of loss and resilience. Nicky and Dominique emerge as intricately written characters, both living through their own private hells, yet the subtle connections between them, spanning across time, won’t be fully revealed until much later at the end. The mystery kept the tensions high and added an additional layer of intrigue, keeping me hooked as answers were gradually revealed.
Again, A Haunting in the Arctic was not an easy book to read, nor would it be suitable for all readers. However, I do believe horror fans brave enough to venture into its icy depths will find a haunting narrative that offers gut-wrenching and chilling resonance....more
I love Constance Sayers, as she is wonderfully consistent. When it comes to 4 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
I love Constance Sayers, as she is wonderfully consistent. When it comes to haunting and evocative historicals, no one else can deliver stories quite like hers. The Star and the Strange Moon is no exception. Much like her previous books A Witch in Time and The Ladies of the Secret Circus, it is a captivating tale of sorrow and ambition, mystery and allure.
It also features a dual timeline structure. In the opening pages, readers meet Christopher Kent whose childhood with a troubled mother meant an unstable and nomadic existence living out of cheap motel rooms. Eventually, she had a breakdown which led to their separation, and Christopher came under the care of his aunt. While he never lived with his mother again, he would never forget what triggered her mental collapse—a photo of Gemma Turner, a 1960s starlet who famously vanished without a trace while on the set of a radical vampire-themed movie being filmed in France.
It is a memory that will shape our protagonist’s destiny. Fast forward to 2015, an adult Christopher has become obsessed with the actress and her potential link to his mother. His quest for the truth leads him to try and hunt down a copy of L’Etrange Lune, the notorious film Gemma had been working on when she disappeared. Though it was completed, it was never released, thought to be lost to time. However, Christopher’s investigation leads him to discover a clandestine group that receives a private screening of the movie every ten years. It is also rumored that each time it is shown, the footage is altered, sometimes even featuring new scenes with Gemma Turner, long presumed dead.
Then, in a 1968 timeline, we follow Gemma herself as she makes a final bid for stardom, traveling to France to audition for a part she so desperately needs. When she is offered the lead role of L’Etrange Lune, she can’t believe her luck. But the production is plagued with problems from the start, including behind-the-scenes animosities and a director who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Then one day, while shooting a scene in an alleyway, Gemma unexpectedly finds herself transported to a different time—one mirroring the world of L’Etrange Lune, where its monsters also come to life.
Sayers skillfully weaves a tale filled with secrets spanning decades and generations, incorporating timeless themes in both the past and present narratives. While not strictly horror, the novel does utilize some of the genre’s elements to enhance the mysterious atmosphere which has become a hallmark of the author’s work. Case in point, the concept of an actress being transported into the very world depicted in her film can be a ridiculous one on the surface. Written in another tone or style, the story could have gone in a very different direction, yet Sayers manages to nail the mood down perfectly.
That said, if forced to choose, I probably prefer her previous two books to this one. Despite its brilliance, The Star and the Strange Moon runs up against several hurdles, notably towards the end. The phenomenal potential in the novel’s first half begins to fizzle as we move into the sections that provide the explanations and big reveals. In other words, as the mystique faded, so too did the momentum. The remainder wasn’t quite enough to keep up the strong pacing through to the final chapters, and the late addition of a romantic element also felt unconvincing and shoehorned in.
Still, a glitchy conclusion notwithstanding, The Star and the Strange Moon remains a compelling read, showcasing Constance Sayers� talents for character development and storytelling. It’s perfect for readers seeking a delightful blend of historical fiction with just a touch of the unexplained....more
So, the title and the cover and the description of this book was a bit dec3.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
So, the title and the cover and the description of this book was a bit deceiving. I went into The Spite House thinking I was reading a horror novel, but quite honestly there was nothing too scary about it. What it can rightfully claim to be though, is a southern gothic novel dripping with atmosphere, spiced up with a dash of the paranormal.
The story opens with an introduction to single father Eric Ross, who is on the run with his two daughters Dess and Stacy. Originally from Maryland, he has made his way to Degener, Texas, where dwindling resources have forced him to lie low and find work. A black man new in town with no work history or anyone to vouch for him, Eric is faced with limited options. He ends up answering an ad in the newspaper for a caretaker post at a property called Masson House, not knowing its history. As it turns out, it is an oddly constructed spite house, built for the sole purpose of antagonizing neighbors or anyone with stake in the land. Standing on a hilltop overlooking an abandoned orphanage, it is also said to be haunted.
In fact, Eric’s new employer is hoping he could help keep an eye out for any paranormal activity while he is staying at the house and is paying him handsomely to do it. Certainly the money would go a long way in solving his problems, providing a future for him and his girls, but is it worth it? The longer he stays at Masson House, the more Eric feels like it is taking a toll on his sanity. The place is practically drowning in negative energy, and as he learns more about the house’s history and what happened to its past owners, Eric begins to fear for the safety of his family.
For all the talk of ghosts and hauntings, I thought The Spite House was startlingly sparse in the chills department. Still, what the story lacked in horror it more than made up for with its tantalizing mystery. The questions hit you almost right away, with the most burning ones being: Why is Eric on the run, and what is he running from? Author Johnny Compton keeps the answers quite close to vest for most of the novel, not revealing them until quite far into the book, but when he does, wow, what a doozy!
Eric himself is a compelling and deeply sympathetic protagonist. He clearly cares a lot about his daughters and is fiercely protective of them. From the occasional chapters we get from the girls� perspectives, it was also clear they were a close-knit family, better to keep secrets among themselves. Amidst the uncertainty and fear in this chaos of emotion, there is also love and a heartwarming connection while they are staying in this strange house.
Speaking of which, before now I had never heard of the term spite house, and only thought it made a cool sounding title for a book. Turns out they are pretty common and you can find spite houses all over the country, pretty much anywhere you have super passive-aggressive individuals with neighbors they want to annoy. Some of them, as I later found out while doing further reading, have even become tourist attractions because of how odd they look. Of course, the Masson House in The Spite House has its own harrowing story behind why it was built, taking readers on a wild journey through some dark history and memories.
In truth, I started The Spite House expecting a more traditional haunted house story and was only sightly disappointed when that turned out not to be the case, mainly because of the complexity of its other elements. The atmosphere was a mix of both modern and southern gothic, and its mystery kept me hooked through the whole book. I also liked Eric Ross as a character, and rooted for him to get to the bottom of whatever was wrong with Masson House, even if it took him down some dangerous paths.
In sum, how you feel about this book will depend on your expectations. Diehard horror fans will likely not find the thrills and frights they seek here, but if you enjoy a good twist on a ghostly tale, especially one infused with mysterious vibes, you’ll want to pick up this impressive debut....more
Originally published in the UK in 2018, Catriona Ward’s award-winning Little4 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
Originally published in the UK in 2018, Catriona Ward’s award-winning Little Eve has been republished by Nightfire Books, and compared to my first experience with her work The Last House on Needless Street, I have to say this one was definitely more my speed.
On the Isle of Altnaharra, just off the coast of Scotland, lives Little Eve and her family of six headed by her “Uncle�. On a cold winter day in 1921, the local butcher making his usual delivery of meat to their crumbling castle makes a horrific discovery when he notices the front gate open. On the altar of the nearby church, he finds five bodies laid out in the shape of a star, each with their right eye gouged out. More shocking yet, one of victims still lives—a girl named Dinah. All other family members are accounted for—all except Eve. It’s believed that she is the one who committed this atrocity.
The story then flashes back in time to 1917 where readers get to the world through Eve’s eyes—a dreary and secluded existence created by Uncle for her and her “sisters� whom he controls with draconian force and cruel punishment. Anyone to step out of line would be subjected to days locked in the dark cellar without food or water, for example. Uncle also fills his family members� heads with a number of strange “truths� and forces them all to participate in his rituals to prepare for the end of the world, all the while maintaining a semblance of normalcy to the outside world so that one will come around asking difficult questions—though of course everyone in town already has their suspicions.
One of these outsiders is Chief Inspector Christopher Black, who has long known things are not as they seem at the castle on Altnaharra. After the massacre of 1921, he has also taken upon himself to get to the bottom of the case.
What Catriona Ward has deftly created here is a chilling tale of horror with the classic trappings of a cult story and old-school gothic vibes, but she has also added some of her own flair and resonating twists. Alternating between the earlier and later points in the story, the author plays with the flow of time leaving her readers feeling disoriented and adrift—but this is all by design. Rest assured everything will come together in the end.
And speaking of disorienting, Eve’s narrative itself is the very definition of unreliable, leaving you constantly guessing and wondering, but in the best way. The very confusion is what creates the sensation of uneasiness and dread, the specter of the other shoe waiting to drop. We explore her childhood through her relationship with her family members, especially Dinah, the lone survivor of the 1921 massacre. As young girls, they were almost inseparable, and brainwashed together by Uncle’s manipulative ways. Eve came to be in all on the dubious religion he preached, believing in snake gods rising from the sea to bring ruin to the earth, and that she would be the chosen one to succeed Uncle and inherit his powers. Some of the things Eve describes makes it difficult to discern whether what she witnessed was real or simply the product of her delusions. Or perhaps, could there be an actual supernatural element at play here?
Ward’s writing also shines with a story like this. All the ingredients are there for her to turn Little Eve into a delectable gothic horror mystery, from the setting of the dilapidated castle by the stormy sea to the shocking opening scene with the gruesome discovery. A dark pall hangs over the entire story—again, by design. This complements the cult elements well, casting a oppressive, gloomy and almost hopeless shadow over all the novel’s characters and events, which was most keenly felt in the sections that take place at Altnaharra.
All told, Little Eve is a haunting gothic tale drenched with terror and atmosphere. Twisted and cleverly plotted, this story is crafted to mess with your mind and keep you guessing. Recommended for horror fans who enjoy exceptional characterization and complex motifs....more
When I think Southern Gothic fiction, I generally picture grim haunting tale5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
When I think Southern Gothic fiction, I generally picture grim haunting tales set in creepy small towns in the American South. I think overall bleak tones with a sense of foreboding and dread. I think horror, the supernatural, the disturbing and the macabre.
What I don’t usually expect is to be laughing my ass off at the gut-busting humor. Yes, I know morbid or dark comedy is sometimes used in the genre to poke fun at Southern societal norms and traditions, but as usual, T. Kingfisher’s famed wit and lightness of touch makes her latest novel an instant gem.
Worried that it might be dementia or worse, Sam sets out to find out what ails her mother. She learns that what Edith is experiencing could be symptoms of delayed bereavement for Gran Mae, even though the old woman has been dead for many years. But Edith’s odd behavior is also just the tip of the iceberg. As insects are her life’s work, Sam can’t help but notice her mother’s garden is completely devoid of any of the creepy crawlies which would normally be everywhere. Not a single ant, spider, or bee despite the garden being filled with Gran Mae’s famously beautiful rosebushes which have been growing at the house for decades. And that’s not even the weirdest part. One night, Sam wakes up to a horrifying discovery which even she as a seasoned entomologist finds disturbing, and that’s only the first of many more nasty surprises the house has in store for her.
If you enjoyed Kingfisher’s The Twisted Ones, then I think you’ll also come to love A House with Good Bones. That’s because the two books feel very similar to me in terms of tone and style, both serving up a perfect blend of horror and humor. Even the title is a cheeky gibe in its own way. The story also features a charismatic and lovable protagonist with an unforgettable voice. Sam Montgomery’s personality is positively infectious, reflected in her laidback narration which flows naturally off the page and frequently includes hilarious observations of the things happening around her. Even in the face of terrifying uncertainty, she can still liven things up with a joke or two.
I was also touched by Sam’s concern for Edith and the way she was so fiercely protective of her. Having just finished a string of novels about dysfunctional families, reading one that featured a strong, loving mother-daughter bond felt quite refreshing for a change. I also enjoyed the side characters, like the neighbors Gail, bitter rival of Gran Mae when she was alive, and Phil, the awkward but intelligent handyman who Sam becomes sweet on as the story progresses. I was even charmed by the wake of vultures, part of a wildlife rescue and rehabilitation program, which have taken over the street and made it their home.
It’s little things like that which made A House with Good Bones such a joy to read. Whenever a scene got too scary, some quirky detail or random quip would bring the tone back to lighter territory. Kingfisher has always had a knack for finding this balance between creepy and funny, and that’s why I keep coming back to her horror books. And no question about it, this one has become one of my favorites.
After I finished A Dowry of Blood, I went to look up the book on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ3.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
After I finished A Dowry of Blood, I went to look up the book on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ and was not surprised to see that the ratings for it were all over the place. Because this one is very much a niche book. I have a feeling it will strike the perfect note for some, while for others it will fall flat on its face. Stylistically, you could tell author S.T. Gibson was going for a certain vibe, and whether it’s a vibe that appeals to you will depend on your personal tastes.
A Dowry of Blood reimagines the story of Dracula, though the classic figure is never mentioned by name, referred only to as “My Lord� by our narrator, Constanta. This is the tale of how she became the bride of her vampire master and lived for centuries by his side, eventually helping him add two more members to their immortal family as they migrate across Europe.
The book opens upon the site of a massacre, with our protagonist barely clinging on to life while the rest of her family lay dead around her, slaughtered by a group of armed men. Like a vulture attracted to the carnage, the vampire lord suddenly appears before her and offers her salvation and a chance to live forever. Filled with desperation and in awe of the power of her savior, she accepts—and becomes reborn as Constanta. And her first act as a vampire? Exacting revenge on her family’s killers, reveling in her newfound powers.
As the years pass, the obsessive love for her master continues to consume Constanta, until they arrive in Spain and meet Magdalena, so beautiful and full of life—the perfect addition to their clan. Gradually, Constanta’s jealousy of the other woman turns to admiration, respect, and then love. And later, when the trio end up in Russia, the young artist and actor Alexi also awakens a protective instinct in Constanta after he joins their family, forcing her to face some difficult truths about her relationship with her lord.
If you enjoy retellings from a different angle, ones that are a little unconventional, then A Dowry of Blood might provide you with what you are looking for. But although the novel may reimagine the character of Dracula from the point-of-view of his “wife�, it also makes several nods to the original classic which inspired it. The entire tale is told in second person epistolary format, addressing her words to her vampire master. I also feel that the prose is written in a way that brings to mind the works of Anne Rice, with dramatic language that at times is almost too flowery.
The results, however, are quite effective. It’s as though Constanta is speaking directly into your mind, creating an atmosphere that feels both immediate and immersive. The mood is thick with seduction and gothic vibes, as the narrative takes us through the darkest parts of history including times of plague and war. Yet at the same time, it’s not all just filth and blood and death. We’re also treated to the imposing backdrops of resplendent castles and the bustling theater scene and nightlife of cities at the prime of their power.
But for all that, the scope of this story feels small. The overall plot is also uncomplicated and linear. Remove all the paranormal and fantastical dressings, and what A Dowry of Blood boils down to is a story about our main character struggling to break free from an abusive relationship. In that sense, there’s really nothing sexy and romantic about this book. Whatever we get to see is constrained by Constanta’s limited experience within the sphere of influence strictly enforced by her husband, and she freely admits she knows little of the world outside of their little family. And unlike Magdalena and Alexi who are a little more willing to test their master’s limits, Constanta herself displays little motivation to go against his wishes for most of the book.
Still, simple plot or not, the point is that our protagonist does eventually find the emotional strength to break that vicious cycle to protect those she loves. It was an epic journey, in its own way, of Constanta’s centuries-long awakening from the spell cast upon her by her so-called beloved.
Bottom line, A Dowry of Blood is a gothic vampire novel filled with dark and sexually charged vibes—not so much “horror� in the traditional sense, but more designed to fill you with a sense of unease. As I said, I believe the response will be mixed on this one due to its niche appeal. Not so sure that it was really for me, but nevertheless I was quite impressed by the way it was all put together....more
Starling House by Alix E. Harrow is a novel which blends elements of gothi3.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
Starling House by Alix E. Harrow is a novel which blends elements of gothic fantasy, subtle horror, and intriguing mystery to deliver an enchanting read with low-key creepy vibes—perfect for the spooky season. While I can’t say it’s my favorite of the author’s works due to its more generic themes, the story’s broad appeal is also why I think it will resonate with a wide audience.
As the book opens, readers are transported to a small dying town in rural Kentucky called Eden, known only for a peculiar legend surrounding a haunted house. It’s said to have belonged to a reclusive 19th century author named E. Starling, who wrote one celebrated masterpiece and then seemingly vanished into thin air. The locals say that the Starling House is cursed, warning others to stay away lest they too become caught up in its dark energies and run afoul of misfortune like its original owner. Its current and lone occupant, Arthur Starling, is the last of his line and lives a quiet and isolated existence, burdened by the weight of his family’s legacy and the secrets that the old house holds.
Starling House is also the last place Opal wants to be, but as a struggling young adult with no real job prospects living in a motel room and trying to raise a little brother by herself, she can’t afford to be selective. So, when Arthur offers her a job as a housecleaner, Opal reluctantly accepts, hoping that the extra cash will be enough to give her brother Jasper a better life after high school, far from the dead-end bleakness of Eden. But in truth, there’s more to it than that. Long before she even set foot in Starling House, Opal had been haunted by visions of it in her dreams. By agreeing to work for Arthur, she is answering a call that has been echoing in her heart for years, and she could hardly pass up the opportunity to get to the bottom of her mysterious dreams.
First, the good. I felt the overall premise of Starling House was superb. For self-professed scaredy-cat readers, I also have great news: I personally would not categorize this novel as true horror. Infused with an atmosphere that’s at once a little gloomy and a little whimsical, “eerie� is perhaps the best description for the general mood of the story. I’ve said before as well that I enjoy an unexpected romance, and indeed there was one in here that snuck up on me and took me by surprise. While I have my issues with Opal (more on that later), I can’t deny being drawn to characters with diametrically opposed personalities coming together, sparking a certain dynamic which adds depth to the relationship.
As for the not-so-good, I have to say I was somewhat let down by the unoriginal nature of the book’s plot and themes. This is Alix E. Harrow, who wrote such imaginative works as The Ten Thousand Doors of January and The Once and Future Witches, and I’m afraid Starling House simply does not achieve a similar caliber. For one thing, the world-building seemed a bit slapdash, skimping on some details and glossing over others that don’t make sense. For another, while this novel is marketed as an adult novel and Opal reads like she is around her late teens or early twenties, the overall formation of the narrative feels strangely YA.
Much of it may have something to do with Opal herself, whom I oftentimes found infuriating. She’s a tough young woman, but also stubborn to the point of self-destructiveness, and I just really can’t stand characters who are “my way or the highway.� These pages are filled with examples of Opal constantly sabotaging herself, either because she’s too full of her own selfish pride or unable to deal with her many hang-ups leading her to take them out on others. Take the way she is with her brother, for instance—clearly, she loves Jasper very much, yet she doesn’t seem to trust or respect him enough to actually listen to him and honor his wishes.
In sum, Starling House is a novel of mostly hits but also a few misses. While it is not the best or the most innovative story that I’ve read by Alix E. Harrow, it is still a good showcase of her talent especially her skills in creating moody atmospheres and immersive fantastical worlds that draw readers into the plot....more
This year, I find many of my low ratings have been given to good books that 2 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
This year, I find many of my low ratings have been given to good books that didn’t quite float my boat for whatever reason. Generally, their stories are sound and the writing solid from a craft perspective, but maybe something in the style or pacing just didn’t work for me. The Hollow Kind is one of these books. Artistically, it is a well put together horror with a fascinating premise at its heart, but I had a hell of a time trying to get through it.
First off, it is a very complex family saga spanning generations and timelines, and to be a fair, these types of stories aren’t always the best suited for audio, which is the format I reviewed. As the book opens in 1989, we follow Nellie Gardner and her eleven-year-old son Max on their journey to Redfern Hill in Georgia, where she had just inherited her grandfather’s estate. There, they find a rundown house surrounded by a dying forest, which is all that’s left of a once proud turpentine mill. Although it’s not the prettiest place, it’s the safest Nellie can provide for Max while they go in hiding from her abusive husband, Wade. But soon after they move in, mother and son begin hearing unsettling noises from within the house’s dilapidated walls and experiencing strange things they can’t explain.
In a separate thread, the story also reveals the history the Redfern Hill, following Nellie’s grandfather August. This part of the tale begins in 1917, when August marries into the Baxter family and takes over their burgeoning turpentine business. This event also sets off a bitter dispute carrying into the present in which Lonnie Baxter, believing that the Redferns stole the mill from his family years ago, launches an aggressive campaign to retake the property by pressuring Nellie to sell. However, what no one realizes is that the place is cursed. Back when he tended the land, August thought he understood the evil force that lurked within the forest but quickly learned that the monster’s hunger will never be appeased.
Overall, The Hollow Kind is a unique take on a southern gothic horror novel, but the plot’s construction and its unconventional trajectories meant at times it became difficult to follow, and the pacing was slow. After having to restart the book multiple times because I kept zoning out during the intro, I almost gave up. I will say though, once each timeline gets a chance to get established, some things improved while a few other problems persisted.
One such problem was the overall flow of the novel. With the frequent switching between the two eras and the awkward transitioning, it wasn’t always clear who I was following right away, especially with my attention constantly in danger of wandering. As a result, I was often left feeling lost and disoriented. Granted, this problem was likely exacerbated by the audio format, but I feel in general the pacing was jerky and inconsistent, giving my brain whiplash as we went from the highs to the lows. There’s certainly no denying the story had its moments, but these were too few and far between, and when things dragged, they slow to a crawl.
I also felt ambivalent towards the characters. That said, that may have a lot to do with many of them being guilty of doing terrible things, and the theme of darkness and violence hidden in people’s hearts is one that crops up again and again. On the positive note though, the author does much better with the supernatural darkness of the novel, the demonic entity beneath the surface and the horrors that it manifests. While most of the time the story moved too slowly for me to fully appreciate the gothic atmosphere, when it came time for the outright terrifying and grotesque elements of the story to shine, that was when The Hollow Kind was at its best.
Still, even with its occasional high points, at the end of the day this book failed to hold my interest for the long term and I was underwhelmed by the overall experience due to the awkward structure and rough pacing. I also tend to struggle with audiobooks for stories featuring multiple timelines and/or perspectives with only one narrator, so despite the impressive performance by Susis James, I had a hard time getting into The Hollow Kind....more
Oppressively dark and deliciously Gothic, with shades of Oliver Twist or m3.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
Oppressively dark and deliciously Gothic, with shades of Oliver Twist or maybe The Lies of Locke Lamora, Alex Pheby’s Mordew is the opener to a new epic fantasy trilogy called Cities of the Weft. In it, we follow protagonist Nathan Treeves, a 13-year-old boy living in desperate poverty in the slums of the titular city. His father is very ill, suffering from the late stages of a parasitic infection called lungworm, which is as terrible and disgusting as it sounds. His mother has resorted to selling her body just to pay for his care and for food, but it is still not enough. As a last resort, Nathan is sent to the Master of Mordew, their mysterious ruler from afar said to derive his magical powers from feeding on the corpse of a God, upon which the city is built. Children are periodically sold to him as “workers�, though not all are accepted. Nathan, having special magical abilities, is thought to be a shoo-in, but for whatever reason, the Master declines to take him.
Driven to find some other way to pay for his father’s life-saving medicine, Nathan turns to stealing, falling in with a group of street urchins to form their own little gang. Soon though, he realizes there are other more powerful, hidden forces pulling the strings behind the scenes, and now he must make a difficult choice. His whole life, Nathan has been told to keep his “spark� hidden, but when all the world’s cards are stacked against you, sometimes you just have to work with what you have.
On its surface, Mordew is the epitome of a literary fantasy novel, featuring complex and convincing characters who develop in multilayered yet natural ways. The themes of the story appear equally heavy and intricate, ostensibly carrying within them a deeper meaning or message. The norms of the fantasy genre are also followed, but not always in the ways we expect, and while there are certainly plenty of familiar tropes, there are many instances where the “rules� or patterns are broken as well.
Magic also plays a prominent role in the novel, but it’s relatively less important compared to Nathan’s journey. Our protagonist is an outcast of society, downtrodden and destitute, but through pluck and sheer determination manages to make something of himself and achieve his goals. But this general description of his story arc doesn’t really do it justice either. The trajectory of his life is intersected by so many people, events, experiences that it would be impossible to cover them all in one review.
That said, all the elements that make Mordew feel so lush and rich are also those that weigh it down at times. The plot suffers from slow pacing, particularly at the beginning as you’re trying to gather your bearings and orient yourself to these strange new surroundings. The prose comes across as very dense and bloated as a result, due to the vast amounts of information to take in and process early on (not to mention, the fact that the glossary adds about 100 more pages to the end of the book should probably tell you something).
To be fair though, world-building is absolutely phenomenal. The setting is vaguely Dickensian, characterized by Victorian era vibes as well as class disparities and the differences in living and working conditions. However, Pheby’s world is definitely more gruesome and visceral. For instance, the slums of Mordew are covered in a magical sludge called Living Mud, and in the opening pages, our young protagonist fishes from the banks something called a “limb baby�, or a mass of writhing arm-like appendages somehow manifested with his “spark�. The corpse-ridden streets and canals are a literal breeding ground for rats that feed on the rot. And of course, the less said about the symptoms of lungworm the better. Still, amidst the grotesque and the despair, there are also moments of levity in the form of playful banter between Nathan and his crew while they are attempting to pull off their daring capers, and even some talking dogs.
Ultimately, I enjoyed Mordew despite its excess. Admittedly, it’s quite rare to get a dark fantasy novel that places such an emphasis on world-building, but as much I appreciate what the author wanted to accomplish, it’s clear that he would sometimes get carried away with it. This ended up hurting the story, though thankfully, the effects are not too severe. I confess I’m still curious about the next book and where Nathan’s future will go from here, and the sequel’s definitely going on my watchlist....more
I believe there are books that require you to be in a certain mood in order to truly enjoy the3 of 5 stars at
I believe there are books that require you to be in a certain mood in order to truly enjoy them, and I can’t help but think The House of Dust is a prime example. This is as Southern Gothic as you can get, set “deep in the heat and silence of rural Tennessee�, a simple yet telling line in the novel’s official description. Yes, it’s dark. Yes, it’s heavy. And sometimes, the story can get a little too bogged down by both these traits.
The couple has rented a rundown plantation house after Brad gets a lead on a possible story in a nearby town. Strange fate has led them here, after a creepy encounter with an old woman brought the dilapidated house to their attention. In his investigation, Brad makes even more disturbing discoveries about the town, including a possible cultish ritual among its residents as well as whispers related to the worshipping of an angel called Adamah. As the old saying goes, be careful what you wish for. Brad believes he is on to something big here, but the deeper he digs, the more he is haunted by the town’s dark and rotten history.
Maybe it’s the structure of the novel, or simply the disjointed nature of the plot itself, but the beginning of this book presented a huge struggle. The early sections were a mess, with issues ranging from ambiguously surreal situations to the deliberate withholding of information, and as you know, it never sits well with me when an author does that, especially when it feels contrived and forced. It’s also difficult to tease out what’s real versus what is merely a product of the characters� minds, and when the basis of your entire novel rests on that uncertainty, well then, the storytelling is bound to be a bit weaker.
Fortunately, the narrative eventually smooths out somewhat. Once I caught on to the split format and figured out where we were going with it, it did make things easier, and with that obstacle out of the way, I was also able to appreciate the more positive aspects of the novel. First of all, this is a very atmospheric tale. The heat and oppression of the setting mixes with the strange and dreamlike fugue of the story to create a haunting miasma that’s thick enough to choke on. Speaking of which, we also didn’t get as much about the old plantation house as I would have liked, but that said, it’s also the type of vagueness that encourages readers to use their own imagination to fill in the blanks, and one can argue that might be even more effective.
Still, Noah Broyles makes a few mistakes that many debut authors are prone to, namely overwriting which unnecessarily encumbers the prose and restricts the flow of pacing. This story could have been a lot spookier and more disturbing, but I was tripping over too many wonky transitions and instances of awkward phrasing to really feel all that creeped out. Finer edits and polishing might have fixed some things, but generally I feel this was a very ambitious and thus complicated story, and Broyles might have bit off more than he can chew.
Overall, I love Gothic fiction, as well as horror stories about cults or strange things happening in small forgotten towns. The House of Dust is probably worth reading if, like me, you are a fan of those things as well, with the caveat that the novel is a bit rough around the edges. Still, Noah Broyles has a lot of potential, and I’ll be keeping an eye out for his next projects.
It might be the spooky season, but just because the nights come earlier an2.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
It might be the spooky season, but just because the nights come earlier and there’s a chill in the air, sometimes a book needs a little more than mood to help get it off the ground. One Dark Window is certainly an ambitious debut that strives for those Gothic fantasy vibes and romantic allure, but the polish just isn’t quite there.
The story follows Elspeth Spindle, who survived a mysterious illness in her childhood which left her with magical abilities. Fearing persecution, she goes in hiding to live with her aunt and uncle, keeping the secret of monster trapped inside her head—an ancient spirit she calls Nightmare. Sometimes Nightmare controls her, but sometimes, it also protects her.
In addition, Elspeth gained the power to absorb the essence from the Providence Cards, twelve magical playing cards that give their owners special abilities. But this magic also has a cost. When the Providence Cards were created, this also destroyed Blunder, the world in which the book takes place. It’s a dreary existence, and nowhere is safe. One day, Elspeth runs afoul of a highwayman while in the forest, and discovers that the bandit is in fact Ravyn Yew, the king’s nephew in disguise. Ravyn also happens to be the Captain of the Destriers, the kingdom’s fearsome law enforcers and the very people Elspeth hopes to avoid.
Fate has other plans, however, as our protagonist unwittingly becomes the key to the Yew family’s mission to reunite the Providence Cards and cleanse the blight from Blunder. This unfortunately requires her to get close to Ravyn, to whom she feels a connection growing in spite of herself. Meanwhile, the Nightmare inside her mind is also becoming stronger, and Elspeth wonders how much longer before it takes over her mind completely.
No doubt with all these elements, One Dark Window had the potential to be the dark and eerie novel it aspired to be, but due to a few missteps and questionable stylistic decisions, it fell short of those expectations. Mainly, we have a story here that struggles with an identity crisis. For one, rather than Gothic, things felt more melodramatic. We’re clearly going for an atmosphere that’s dark, violent and bloody, yet this is somewhat sabotaged by the cringey Young Adult vibes not to mention the cheesy, riddle-me-this way the Nightmare speaks.
I also feel that while author Rachel Gillig is obviously talented and has a way with words, she stumbles with the narrative and pacing. Momentum was very slow to build, and even once we had achieved it, the plot struggled to maintain it. Then there was the slow-burn romance between Elspeth and Ravyn, which to its credit was a luxuriant and seductive, but it was also hard to see self-indulgence or shake the feeling that Gillig prioritized their romance arc even though it was only supposed to be a subplot. No other relationship between Elspeth or any of the other characters got nearly as much attention, and the glossing over of other parts of the story also made some the big reveals at the end very predictable.
Ultimately, my feelings for One Dark Window were as mixed and confused as the novel’s direction and themes. There’s a sense that it tries to be too much and so it doesn’t quite meet any of the goals that it set for itself, and as you know, books that are neither here nor there are always the hardest ones to review. Bottom line, I probably would have enjoyed this one a lot more had I been in the mood for a YA fantasy romance, which I’ve been known to crave on occasion. This time though, I’d been expecting something more mature and a lot darker, and while there were hints of that which came through, it just wasn’t enough....more
It’s hard to say exactly why Hyde didn’t really work for me, though I did en2 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
It’s hard to say exactly why Hyde didn’t really work for me, though I did enjoy the author’s last novel The Devil Aspect and somehow I just didn’t feel this one held the same fascination or appeal.
Our story begins in Victorian Edinburgh where Captain Edward Henry Hyde holds the post of chief detective, and as such it is his job to uphold the law and lead the investigation into any serious crimes in the city. And so, when he wakes up one day at the scene of a grisly murder, he is immediately alarmed. For you see, Hyde suffers from a particularly worrying form of epilepsy that causes him to lose time. These amnesic occurrences can come on very suddenly, and every time he finally comes to, he can never remember anything that happened.
In this case, his awakening so near to the crime scene inevitably leads him to wonder whether he had any connection to the murder. To make things worse, the victim was killed in an especially brutal manner called the Threefold Death, linked to an ancient Celtic ritual involving the spirts and sacrifice. As the chief detective though, Hyde has no choice but to keep his condition and suspicions a secret, even as his investigation takes him to some dark places, both literally and figuratively.
First let me just say my issues with this novel are entirely subjective. Craig Russell is an excellent writer, as I found out with The Devil Aspect, and his prose was just as delectable here in Hyde, as was the overall style which was pure immersion and atmosphere. However, it was the story itself that failed to engage me. Due to the circumstances surrounding our protagonist, there was a disjointed feel to the plot that didn’t quite do it for me, not to mention the entire book felt simply too drawn out.
In some ways, I think my indifference might also have been the result of the author doing his job too well. Had my interest been greater in the time period or the ultra-gothic vibes, the book might have resonated with me more. An obvious example of this was the Hyde’s internal exposition detailing his thoughts, emotions and memories, which was heavy-handed to the point of driving all life from the writing. To a lesser extent, this over-telling was also happening with the dialogue, resulting in conversations that felt awkward and contrived.
Ultimately, it became very difficult to care about the story or the characters. This made reading Hyde a struggle for much of my time with it, and it didn’t help that the narrator for the audiobook had a relatively flat, droning kind of voice. Despite zoning out on the audiobook frequently, I also found I was missing very little because of how slowly the plot progressed. Credit where it’s due though, when all was revealed, the final resolution to the mystery was enjoyable, though probably not enough to make up for everything else. I wish we’d gotten more of the mythological side of things too, but instead the story decided to go in another direction. In hindsight, I can understand why, but in the end that did little to help spark my enthusiasm.
Bottom line: you win some, you lose some. I’d looked forward to Hyde ever since having such a great time with The Devil Aspect, so of course I’m heartbroken that this turned out to be a disappointment. My previous positive experience with Craig Russell makes me want to chalk this up to one of those “it’s not this book, it’s me� situations though, so your mileage may vary, and I’m probably going to keep checking out the author’s projects and hope that his next one will be more my speed....more
After The Nesting last year, I just knew I had to get my hands on more of C.4 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
After The Nesting last year, I just knew I had to get my hands on more of C.J. Cooke’s work. So, when the synopsis of The Lighthouse Witches promised more of that same Gothic suspense and atmospheric goodness, I was quite anxious to dive right in.
Our story begins in 1998, as artist Olivia Stay arrives on Scottish isle Lòn Haven along with her three daughters Sapphire, Luna, and Clover. Commissioned to paint a mural inside an ancient lighthouse supposedly built on the ruins of prison for witches, Olivia knows very little about the client who hired her or why he wanted the work done, but she’s desperate for work and also looking to start fresh in a new place.
Her teenager Sapphire, however, is quite unhappy about having been uprooted from their old home and is taking her anger out on her mother and sisters. Exploring on her own, she comes across an old tome left near the lighthouse filled with accounts of the witch burnings that happened on the island back in in the 1600s. The residents of the village, friendly as they are, also seem to be deeply superstitious, believing in the old stories about changelings, and it doesn’t help that for such a small place, Lòn Haven has a long and disturbing history of children randomly disappearing.
And then the unthinkable happens. Two of Olivia’s daughters go missing, setting her off on a panicked search. But in the end, only one girl is found. Fast forward twenty-three years later to the present day, we follow Luna, now a grown woman expecting her first child. Her life is a bit of a mess, having been estranged from her mother Olivia and now having relationship troubles with her boyfriend, which is putting even more stress on her already high-risk pregnancy. Through it all though, Luna has never given up searching for her lost sisters, and then one day, she unexpectedly receives news from the police that Clover has been found. Excited to be reunited with her sister, who should be around thirty years old by now, Luna is shocked to arrive at the station to find a little girl.
At first, her heart sinks knowing this can’t be Clover, but at the same time, the child looks exactly like her seven-year-old sister who went missing back in 1998. Not only that, she also sounds exactly like her, knows all the things that only Clover would know. It shouldn’t be possible, but the more time Luna spends with the girl, the more she is convinced that she is her sister. But how to explain the fact that she hasn’t aged a day since they last saw each other?
Basically, there are narratives from three timelines that make up The Lighthouse Witches—the one in 1998 told from Olivia and Sapphire’s POVs, the one in 2021 from Luna’s POV, and the last one told through diary entries from the old book, which I won’t comment on any further in case of spoilers. As you can imagine, all that jumping around can get a little dicey, and I won’t lie, there were definitely moments where things got confusing. Still, for the most part, I thought the author handled the POV switches very well, alternating and contrasting the timelines in a way that delivered the most tension and impact.
That said, it does take a while for the three arcs to build and weave together some semblance of a conflict, so patience is required until the main plot can get off the ground. Once you hit a certain point though, the mystery reaches a climax, and the rest of the novel unfolds at a breathless pace. I would say if you enjoyed The Nesting, then there’s a good chance you’ll enjoy The Lighthouse Witches too, and in fact, in certain respects, I liked this one better. Both books begin with a single woman relocating to a remote place to start a new job, and both also involve creepy children. Then there’s the paranormal element, which is even more pronounced in this novel, and that’s great news if that’s your jam. This time, I also wasn’t as hung up on certain questionable explanations or leaps of logic, because the presence of the otherworldly and uncanny gave the plot a lot more leeway.
As with most novels that can be described as moody, twisty, slow-burn Gothic suspense, The Lighthouse Witches probably won’t be for everyone, but if you happen to be on the lookout for that kind of story and won’t mind a somewhat indeterminate supernatural angle, then this book is for you....more
Christina Henry has made a name for herself with her dark retellings of clas2 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
Christina Henry has made a name for herself with her dark retellings of classic fairy tales and fantasy legends, but Horseman: A Tale of Sleepy Hollow is really more of her imagining of a sequel to the Washington Irving story. In this novel, we follow fourteen-year-old Ben Van Brunt, who was born a girl but has always identified more as a boy. Approximately twenty years have passed since Ichabod Crane’s infamous encounter with the Headless Horseman, but the tales have since lived on in local gossip and in the games of children. One day, while re-enacting those events with the other youngsters in town, Ben comes across the body of one of his playmates in the woods, missing his head and hands. Soon, the news of this gruesome find has everyone in Sleepy Hollow asking some uncomfortable questions.
However, Ben’s grandfather Brom “Bones� Van Brunt insists that the Horseman isn’t real, and he should know better than most. As someone who was actually there when it all went down nearly two decades ago, if Brom says it’s all just a legend, then that should be the end of it, case closed. And yet, Ben still can’t help but wonder, not to mention the fact he’s sure there’s also more out there in the woods, something even more monstrous and evil than the Horseman, though its intentions are just as nebulous. Ben then finds out that his grandparents haven’t been completely truthful to him when it comes to their family history and the fate of his parents, which now casts doubt on everything Brom and his grandmother Katrina have ever claimed, including what they’ve said about the existence of the Horseman.
It took several days for me to gather my thoughts after finishing this book. Initially, I was going to give it 3 stars, but now that I’ve had some time to mull it over, I think I’ll be downgrading it to 2. Needless to say, I was disappointed in Horseman, and I think the last time I felt this let down by a Henry novel was with The Girl in Red, except this somehow feels worse. At least with The Girl in Red, it became clear relatively early on that the author was only basing the story on a loose interpretation of the source material, while Horseman, ostensibly touted as a sequel to The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, felt more like a bait-and-switch.
Overall, there was minimal effort on Henry’s part into making the world feel reminiscent of the original classic. Sure, she may have provided names of a handful of familiar people and places, but details and descriptions were noticeably sparse. None of the characters, including our protagonist, felt like real people exhibiting motivations, personalities or behaviors that felt all that convincing. For example, reactions to shocking events, like finding a mutilated body of a child in the woods, or discovering an astounding new fact about your neighbor who you thought you’ve known your whole life, etc. came across as muted and completely unrealistic.
As some reviewers have noted, the matter of Ben’s gender was also handled rather poorly. Whatever happened to showing, not telling? There’s hardly any development beyond Ben’s endless exposition. At a certain point, the story also skips ten years ahead to Ben having already established his new identity and life in one of the most egregious examples of glossing over I’ve ever seen. But hey, at least in the end we find out that Ben’s gender actually has an essential role in the story’s final reveal so the issue wasn’t just tacked on, because that’s the only way this whole thing could have turned out worse.
Anyway, I hate to even think this, because I still respect the hell out of Christina Henry, she who wrote such brilliant works such as the Chronicles of Alice series or Lost Boy, but I was struck with the impression that Horseman was just an excuse to churn out a quick book. It felt rushed and lazy, and certainly not of the same caliber as her other aforementioned fairy-tale and mythical legend inspired novels. I suppose there is some entertainment value here if you are interested in the original Sleepy Hollow tale, but I was really looking forward to this and can’t say I was very happy with the way things turned out. At least the narrator for the audiobook did a good job though, and I’ll be watching out for any more of Em Grosland’s performances....more
In a small town in the Norwegian countryside, childhood friends Elena and 3.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
In a small town in the Norwegian countryside, childhood friends Elena and Cathy grew close to each other over many summers of vacationing there. Now adults, the two have become bitter rivals after discovering that both have decided to start a writing project about the same topic: Isbeth Clark.
A local woman who had been denounced as a witch back in the nineteenth century, Isbeth was drowned in a well by a mob of angry townsfolk who believed her responsible for the disappearance of several children. Stories of her have since become entrenched in the history of the town as well as many local legends. In the present day, having returned from the city to get her family’s estate ready for sale, Elena is reminded of her bucolic summers spent here in her youth and is suddenly struck with an inspiration to write a tribute to Ilsbeth’s spirit. A bestselling author of a spiritual self-help book, Elena also hopes to use her reach as a social media influencer to spread the word about the infamous witch in the well.
This does not sit well at all with Cathy, who has remained in town after all these years and earned herself a bit of a reputation as the local kook. Obsessed with the subject of Ilsbeth Clark, Cathy has dedicated years of her life researching the woman’s life for a novel about her, and now feels anger towards Elena for encroaching upon what she perceives is her area of expertise. The story is told in the epistolary style, opening with a news report on a tragic death followed by excerpts from Elena’s journal, entries on Cathy’s blog, notes purported written by Ilsbeth herself, as well as other documentation.
After writing out the book’s description, I couldn’t help but notice some similarities to another one of Camilla Bruce’s novels, You Let Me In. There’s first the blending of horror and paranormal elements with smalltown history and folklore. Then there’s the aspect of the unreliable narrator. And finally, thanks to the vagueness created by the combination of all these ingredients, the result is an eerie uncertainty of what is real and what is imagined.
The author also seems to have a penchant for characters who are writers. But while both Cathy and Elena in The Witch in the Well are hoping to write about Ilsbeth Clark, their visions for their respective works couldn’t be any more different. And much of it has to do with the differences between the two women themselves. Cathy has always been the quiet, somber, and introverted one who struggles socially with expressing how she feels. Elena is the opposite, making friends easily with her bubbly and bright personality.
Due to the structure of the novel, these character differences became an invaluable way to tell their voices apart. However, here’s where I think Bruce’s writing falters a bit; the story is supposed to be told through the characters� own writings such as journal entries, notes, etc. but in fact the writing style varies very little. Sure, we had personality quirks come through that were used to tell the voices apart, but in general these were rather shallow affectations.
The Witch in the Well also had the feel of a “here’s what happened� story where the major crux was revealed right from the start, leaving the rest of the novel to go back and fill in the details. Without spoiling anything, I will say that in a way we already know the fates of our characters very early on so there’s no big shock, especially with a big reveal of what happened to one of them right off the bat. As a plot device, I wasn’t exactly turned off by it, though I can’t say it did the story any favors either. It simply left the rest of it with little wind in its sails to carry the mystery or intrigue all the way through.
That’s pretty much how I feel about the book overall—smooth sailing but generally an uneventful ride. Not bad at all, though after my stellar experience with the Camilla Bruce’s two previous novels, You Let Me In and In the Garden of Spite, it’s hard not to see The Witch in the Well as a slight downgrade. Still a good book and a worthy pick if you are a fan of the author, but if you are just starting out with her work I would recommend starting elsewhere, like with either of the aforementioned novels which are much more impressive in terms of storytelling, atmosphere, character development....more
The latest from Laura Purcell, The Shape of Darkness is as dark and twisty a4 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
The latest from Laura Purcell, The Shape of Darkness is as dark and twisty as we’ve come to expect from the queen of gothic suspense. The setting is Victorian Bath, where an ailing silhouette artist struggles to keep her business afloat in a world moving towards camera photography. With each passing day, fewer and fewer people seem interested in Agnes Darken� craft, while at home she still has her elderly mother and 12-year-old nephew Cedric to care for. With work already hard to come by, Agnes is shaken when her latest client is found dead, his throat cut and his face smashed in, just before she can complete the final touches on his portrait. Now, not only will her finances remain strained, but she’s also beginning to think someone might be targeting her business by killing her customers, especially when mysterious deaths connected to her seem to keep happening.
After the third person to sit for her is found murdered, Agnes knows she must take matters into her own hands, given the police won’t take her suspicions seriously. Desperate to know why this might be happening to her, she decides to go against the advice of her doctor friend Simon by consulting a medium. Her search leads her to the doorstep of Myrtle West, who claims to be a mesmerist, and her half-sister Pearl Meers, an 11-year-old seer who recently came into her gift. It is Agnes’s hope that if Pearl can communicate with the spirits of her clients, they might be able to reveal who killed them and why. Still, pretty soon, they realize that meddling with the unseen might not be so wise, and that the ghosts of the dead may not be so forthcoming…or friendly.
As you probably know, in the last few years Laura Purcell has become a must-read author for me. This is my fourth novel by her, having previously read and loved The Silent Companions, The Poison Thread, and The House of Whispers, and now I’m excited to report that The Shape of Darkness is another winner, containing all the spine-tingling, creepy gothic goodness that I’ve come to love from her books. There’s often a strong element of mystery to her stories as well, not to mention a certain ambiguity surrounding the supernatural forces that might or might not be in play, and this was definitely no exception.
Another hallmark of the author’s books appears to be her tortured protagonists, who frequently bear the weight of their emotional and sometimes physical scars. This usually makes them highly unreliable narrators, and just when you think you understand how they tick, you will discover something surprising that completely changes everything. Following Agnes’s point-of-view was very much like that, as each chapter gradually reveals more of her backstory. Life for her has become a series of misfortunes ever since falling ill a few years ago, and she is still recovering from the effects. Her sister also died, which is why her son Cedric is being raised by our protagonist. Agnes wants to do right by the boy, but can hardly even afford to keep herself clothed and fed some days. Now her only source of income is also dwindling, as silhouettes fall out of popularity in favor of photographs. What’s clear is that Purcell’s deft handling of character development paints a sympathetic picture of Agnes, and readers can’t help but feel for her plight, especially since her passion for her art is so genuine and deep. For real, this book actually made me wish traditional silhouette portrait cutting was still in fashion.
Bottom line, with The Shape of Darkness, Laura Purcell has written another deliciously dark gothic novel with more than a few mind-bending surprises. Granted, some of them might turn out to be more predictable than others, but overall I can’t deny I had a good time with this one. As always, I look forward to the author’s next project.
Audiobook Review: Superbly narrated, The Shape of Darkness audiobook was a great way to experience this novel, with Ell Potter’s rich accents and tones greatly enhancing the story’s atmosphere....more
The Nesting by C.J. Cooke definitely earns its label of Gothic suspense, t3.5 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum
The Nesting by C.J. Cooke definitely earns its label of Gothic suspense, though I have to say it’s a different and interesting take on the subgenre. To be sure, what I enjoyed most about the book was its atmosphere, thick and heavy with intrigue. When it comes to reader engagement and thrills though, the story might have stumbled a little due to lack of cogency and uneven pacing.
Much of this novel takes place in the Norwegian wildnerness, but it does begin in London, where our protagonist Lexi Ellis finds herself adrift after a failed suicide attempt leaves her without any support. Her boyfriend has left her, and she’s also lost her job and her home, but one day, an opportunity presents itself as she overhears a conversation between two strangers on the train. One of the women, named Sophie, had been offered a nanny position but tells her friend she that she is unlikely to take it. An aspiring writer, Lexi is immediately intrigued upon learning the job is in Norway, which just happens to be the setting of the novel she’s working on. Inspired and emboldened, she uses Sophie’s identity and credentials to track down the employer and applies to be their nanny.
With her new stolen identity, Lexi—now Sophie—is hired by Tom Faraday, a recently widowed architect who needs someone to help care for his two young daughters. The family is currently living in a remote part of Norway, where Tom is trying to finish building a high-concept, environmentally-friendly house in honor of his late wife, Aurelia. Initially terrified that she is going to get found out, Lexi finds herself adjusting surprisingly well to her new role thanks to the charming Faraday children, Gaia and Coco. Soon, however, strange things begin to happen—and Gaia tells Lexi about her chilling visions of a sad lady she sometimes sees around the house. And then, there is the diary. Mysteriously appearing in Lexi’s room one day, it appears to have belonged to Aurelia. Everyone knows that her death had been a suicide, but the more Lexi reads from the diary, the more she wonders what Aurelia had been up to in the weeks before her death, and whether she had really taken her own life.
What we have here is all the hallmarks of an effective Gothic tale, but on the flip side, I am quite sad to say I found it weak as a psychological mystery/thriller—and bear in mind, this was how the book was pitched. What this means is, if you enjoy claustrophobic settings or the creeping nature of doubt and paranoia, then I think you will enjoy The Nesting, but on the other hand, those hoping for a more impactful and engaging tale might find themselves disappointed.
We’ll begin with the aspects I thought were strong, and first and foremost was the atmosphere. Setting the story in the Norwegian hinterlands was a stroke of genius. There’s just something about this environment that makes it both amazing and terrifying in its beauty, in turn making the novel’s themes of humanity vs. Mother Nature all the more poignant. And then we have the characters, starting with Lexi, who is a shadow of her old self when we first meet her. Gradually, we see the Faraday girls draw out the stronger and more confident side of her personality as well as her protective instincts as she strives to make sense of the strange happenings around her. Next, we have Tom’s point-of-view interspersed with Aurelia’s told in flashback, helping readers better understand the profundity of their decision to construct a dream home by the banks of a pristine fjord. A paranormal element is also present, which is good news for readers who enjoy a touch of nature-based folklore and mythology.
As for criticisms though, I had some major problems with the plot and pacing. The coincidences at the beginning, for example, were so absurd that I had feared not being able to take the rest of the story seriously. Granted, it was a fascinating setup, but the circumstances behind the way Lexi lands her job were simply too outlandish to be convincing. Then there were the plodding sections in the middle where the pacing dragged, and when the author tried to alleviate this problem with the use of time skips, the awkward execution only served to make things worse. Coupled with frequent flashbacks, the entire timeline of the story’s events became rather fuzzy for me.
So, to conclude, there are some high points in The Nesting, including a few genuine moments of pure creepiness, but on the whole, the weaknesses in the storytelling dampened a lot of my enthusiasm. Read this if you’re into the atmosphere and mood of a Gothic novel, or if you’re interested in the specific setting. But if you’re looking for a more traditional psychological suspense thriller, this might not be enough to satisfy....more
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