Review: Home Before Dark

3 stars. Hahahahahaha.

Hmmmmmmmm.

Well, then. This is my first Riley Sager, and I have to say - it's kind of what I expected. A twisty, compelling page-turner that is somehow also clumsy, implausible and cheap. I'm such a picky, critical reader, and that for sure prevented me from just sitting back and enjoying the ride. But the fact is that the flaws here far outweigh the merits. 

The plot follows Maggie Holt, a young woman who inherits her childhood home when her father passes away. Her father had written a book about the place, a bestselling novel documenting her family's experiences in the so-called "house of horrors," and Maggie is determined to find out 1) why her father wrote such an unbelievable thing exploiting her childhood, and 2) what really happened to inspire him.

A couple of elements that were really distracting:

1. The borrowed premise. Being derivative is FINE - really - but this is straight up copied from Netflix's adaptation of Hill House. I don't mind when authors reference other works, but I do mind when they aren't self-aware about it. The tropes utilized here are just those - tropes - and I found myself wishing for a wink, a smirk, an elbow nudge to let us know that we're all here to lean in and suspend belief together, which brings me to...

2. The implausibility! Oh man. Horror is my favorite genre to read, so I'm no stranger to accepting unrealities for the sake of a reading experience. But this was just too much. Too much inexplicable decision-making (by sane, capable adults?!), too much memory loss, too many tangled secrets, too many convenient twists. Maggie acts like the book ruined her life...? Like every interaction is tainted by it? Would people really CARE that much?! Everything clicks together in the end, which is nice, but it feels kind of like an uhhhhhhh what? moment. Which brings me to...

3. Sloppy writing. Try-hard cliffhangers. Awkward dialogue. Characters who sound exactly like each other. Forced chemistry between other certain characters. Drawn out moments that should've been concise. Rushed moments that should've been drawn out. Unnecessary conflict. REALLY strange character motivations. Easily identifiable red herrings. 

I actually feel bad now. It's not THAT bad. It's just a little cringey.

Here's the thing: there's a fantastic idea here. And that idea brings us some great, spooky moments and a perfectly horrifying haunted house atmosphere. The mystery at the heart of the story is truly an interesting one and kept my attention, even though I started piecing things together about halfway through. I didn't hate the protagonist or the format or the way things unfolded. It's also, nicely, a fairly quick read. 

I'll pick up another Riley Sager soon. This was good enough for now.

Home Before Dark on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Catch and Kill

4 stars. This is harrowing and haunting and an absolute must-read. It's not just about the Weinstein story, it's about men and women and hard workers and free thinkers and predators and victims and journalism and the media and America and the truth and the immense, terrifying lengths to which men will go to hide their secrets. I've been thinking a lot about social evolution and how we call ourselves "advanced" - and yet in so many ways we are truly just finding new, techy ways to tear each other apart. How to cope? Well, reading well-written investigative journalism is one reliable way.

Catch and Kill tracks Harvey's crimes, his cover-ups, and his (successful, shameful) efforts to squash the story at NBC. Ronan Farrow documents his experience with the story start to finish - the original assignment, his mind-blowing interviews with sources, his failed attempts to push further and put real evidence on the air, and finally his decision to take the story to The New Yorker. The rest is history. Down with Harvey and the greedy weasels who enabled and empowered his crimes over the years. 

It's one of those sort-of happy endings that leaves you feeling a bit disgusted, maybe in need of a quick shower. It's satisfying to see Harvey caught and jailed and ultimately punished, but the taste of victory is tainted by the bitterness of his crimes. And by the manner in which so many - so, so many - were complicit. And by the way his victims' lives were destroyed, most of them suffering to this day. And by the way even after everything, the psychopath is essentially incapable of comprehending that he is the ultimate evil villain in this story. He is a monster. 

The book itself is well-written. I enjoyed the short chapters and the personal quotes. I enjoyed Farrow's frankness about his background and his own personal connection with the story. He's such a smart guy. I would maybe point out that the book needed a bit more editing, especially toward the end (that’s why I docked a star, honestly), but this truly is a captivating page-turner that you can hardly believe is true. I know when the story first broke and the term "open secret" became slang everyone kept asking "how?! how?! how?!" Well, this is how. And it's just as amazing and awful as you'd expect.

I hope there’s more. I hope this book ends up updated or something. There’s a podcast, for sure, and probably a movie adaptation in the works, but this story continues to unfold and you know what? It feels like progress. I want that documented. I want to roll around in it. To be a woman in this country is to experience hopelessness, injustice, inequality, instability, confusion, rage, powerlessness, fear, and hurt. Farrow is no less than a hero for trying to fight what feels like such an inevitability.

I would also say this: there is absolutely no denying that Farrow has character and stands with strong moral sensibilities. He has a clear objective here; an intention, and it's the right one. I wouldn't dream of undermining his intelligence, his accomplishments, or his immense contribution to this cause. That being said, whenever you write a book about yourself Doing The Right Thing, there's going to be a whiff of self-indulgence; a pinch of self-righteousness. Farrow, for the most part, toes this line and resists any obvious temptations. Did he REALLY act like such a pure super savior literally every step of the way? *Shrug* It doesn't matter in the end. Even Superman saved lives in a flashy uniform. 

Catch and Kill on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Shadows

3 stars. Don't worry - I liked it. I couldn't put it down. I admired it! The spooky stuff is genuinely scary and the emotional aspect of the story packs a punch. When I closed the book, though, all I could think was, ".....cute." I think reading horror has changed a bit for me in this astonishing year of our lord 2020. I'm jaded, I'm less shocked by evil, I walk around in a weird anxious state that barely gets penetrated by things like bloody handprints and creepy dolls. All that being said, this is a perfect October read. I recommend.

The core of the story is a bit cliche: Paul Adams, away from home for twenty-five years after his indirect involvement in a gruesome murder, returns home to care for his dying mother. Memories shift and emerge as he re-acquaints himself with his hometown, and he starts to suspect that something is truly amiss. Meanwhile, a detective from a neighboring town shows up to investigate what appears to be a copycat killing - a murder that mirrors the one that has haunted Paul for all these years. 

I really enjoy Alex North's pacing and his bright, concise way of writing (characters CAN be emotionally fleshed out without millions of words, thanks). It's familiar to The Whisper Man in that sense, which makes me excited - I love a dependable author with consistent style! I also liked that he leaned into something really sad here - not just scary, but sad. It was a nice touch and a layer of depth that made this more sophisticated. 

There are elements of Sarah Pinborough's Behind Her Eyes here, as well as Stephen Chbosky's Imaginary Friend. I would say it's a little Kingy but not nearly as wordy and a little more cut-and-dry. Could be a really fun beach read, if beaches are ever a thing in the future. The twists and turns are pure and unpredictable and the ending is super, super satisfying. All in all, I liked this, as my rating indicates, but I wasn't totally blown away. On to the next. 

The Shadows on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland

5 stars. Phew, this was excellent. Say Nothing is a few things: a detailed history of The Troubles, an investigation into an infamous murder and the others who "disappeared" during those times, and a wrenching character study of the key figures affected and involved. Using a tone that reads much more textbook than true crime (not a bad thing - it's still a page-turner), Patrick Radden Keefe pulls on various threads from this complicated tapestry to uncover and examine the dark truths about the conflict, about morality, about belief, and about humanity as whole. 

A couple of observations:

First of all: for as long as I can remember, I have never really been able to wrap my ahead around the conflict in Ireland. It's an intimidating, almost unbelievable piece of history that's essentially ongoing, and despite my Irish heritage and basic knowledge of the strife I could never talk about it intelligently. This book changed all that. It should be curriculum. It should be a fundamental resource. It should be studied and admired for the way it deftly unlocks an incredibly intricate - and dangerous - safe.

Second: applause to the author for doing so and somehow never truly labeling, criticizing, judging or ultimately losing respect for any of the key players. There are no bad guys here, or rather, everyone is a bad guy (or a bad girl, as it happens). Huge disclaimer, of course: I wasn't there, I've never lived in Ireland, this was my first detailed exposure to this story, and it's quite possible that I just don't get it. But I do believe that Keefe is able to stick to the facts, sordid as they occasionally are, sensitively; maintaining reverence for the victims and for the messy, life-altering aftermaths. 

To that point, I was really struck by the chapter that details Brendan Hughes' later life and eventual conversations as part of the Boston College project. Keefe writes in this chapter - aided by some seriously stomach-churning quotes from Hughes - what are, in my opinion, some of the best words ever written on post-radical disillusionment. "Painting murals on walls to commemorate blanket men after they have died a slow and lonely death from alcohol abuse is no use to anyone ... I would hate for young people now to have this romanticized version of the events of that time. The truth is so very far removed from that and I suppose I'm living proof." 

It's especially heartbreaking and vivid because the entire thing resulted in what many viewed as a non-victory, so IRA participants couldn't even come near to validation. Opinions changed, views were swayed, and political circumstances swirled in vague intangible clouds that lightened as years went by. And the dead ... well, the dead stayed dead, except in the haunted minds of the survivors. Compartmentalizing (and romanticizing, as Hughes ironically notes in a house full of Che posters) must've been so easy in the youth and excitement of it all; grappling with the consequences in the face of long-term failure, though... I cannot. even. imagine. No matter how you look at it, no matter who was "right" or "wrong," the trauma here knows absolutely no bounds.

Human-dealt trauma - that's what it is. Trauma and tragedy perpetuated by the neighbors, the acquaintances, the extended family, the circles you've navigated and known and trusted your whole life. Trauma and tragedy that twists its way into your heart forever. Trauma and tragedy that is so fundamentally human and also so fundamentally useless it makes you repaint the image that comes to mind when you think of "advanced civilization." Human-bred, human-borne, human-built tragedy. It's the world's oldest story, when you think about it, and the one that keeps repeating itself, the one that will continue to repeat itself until the end of time.

I'll be thinking about this - thinking, reflecting, re-reading, researching, and bringing it up randomly at the dinner table - for a long, long time. 

Say Nothing on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Devil All the Time

3 stars. Bleak and brutal and everything I expected it to be. This is true Southern Gothic at its best - and its most violent. I'm actually not sure I'll watch the movie, despite the great cast, because it's not the type of story I'd like to see unfold before my eyes other than through words. Like all excellent Southern literature, the setting is a character - sometimes the antagonist, sometimes the narrator, sometimes a neutral observer, sometimes a driving force behind the events that shape the story. It's difficult to imagine this narrative dropped somewhere - anywhere - else and remaining just as captivating; just as good.

I am from the suburbs of Northern Virginia and therefore cannot possibly fully understand the potency of this novel, but I'm incredibly curious if anyone from a similar area experiences pangs of ... recognition? Gratitude? Horror? while reading this story. I'm personally fascinated by the way place shapes a person, so naturally I want to sink my teeth in from that angle. But there's so much here about people, just people. It's about a young boy and the inevitable, twisted impact of his sick and traumatized parents; a murderous couple desperate to answer the call of their criminal instincts; sad and lonely residents of sad and lonely places just trying to survive in damaged ways. 

There's also a symmetry to this story, against which some readers might chafe, but to me it just seemed like narrative planets circled each other before finally kissing in brief and terrible ways. Sort of like ... life is a pretty but very painful carousel. I'm super impressed with the way Pollock wrote women, as well. He managed to capture some nuances of the female character that many authors couldn't dream of spelling let alone writing down. 

I feel a bit hungover from this, a bit like I'm looking at the world through different colored lenses. Pollock doesn't simply lock the door - he locks you in a room of dirt and tears and blood and makes you sit there, wallowing in it, for hours. It's enough to knock you down and make you think for a bit. But I'm glad to have read it, and I'm glad to have experienced Pollock's strong voice and unique vision. It's not for the faint of heart, but we all need a good slap in the face every once in a while. 

The Devil All the Time on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Mexican Gothic

5 aromatic, fruitful, gloomy stars. I'm slowly recovering from the biggest reading slump I've ever experienced, and I'm happy to report that Mexican Gothic served as a healthy reminder that books are magic, to me. Everyone's saying it - and now I can happily confirm that this is Bronte meets Vandermeer. I loved it. This is one of those books you hate to put down, because it sucks you in story-wise AND character-wise. Every person in this story is distinct and interesting. 

The story: an intelligent, headstrong young woman named Noemi is sent out of town to investigate when she receives a rambling, mysterious letter from her newly-married cousin. She heads to High Place, a crumbling old mansion occupied by a cold, cranky family. The longer she stays at High Place, the more concerned she gets for her ill cousin, and the more ill she feels herself. So many secrets!

Among the positives: the setting, the snappy, brave protagonist, the writing that is somehow both matter-of-fact and also lushly atmospheric, the pacing, and the subversion of certain tropes about masculinity and love. As soon as I read the last word I wanted to rewind and start all over again, which is extremely rare for me (as in, it happens maybe once every 50 books or so). I snagged this at the library but will be investing in a copy for myself. It's that good. More than good, it's that FUN. 

There are plenty of little details here (like Noemi's knowledge of chemicals and dyes) that make this work so well, but I think overall the story is just a classic one. It borrows from the greats but it's not too boring or familiar - it has all the exciting elements for a fantastic gothic mystery. The villain is absolutely (and delightfully) awful and there's plenty of social commentary to unpack. I'm just really, really impressed.

I WANT ANOTHER ONE.

Mexican Gothic on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: My Dark Vanessa

Quick note: hello there. I’ve been gone for awhile. Nobody has noticed, of course, because nobody reads this blog or my reviews on Goodreads, so this is sort of a note to future Kelly. Hi, future self, you took a little unplanned hiatus from reading and reviewing because life had other plans and stress melted your brain until it oozed out of your ears. BUT GUESS WHAT?! You got through it. With flying colors, like the badass bitch you are. Welcome back.

5 stars. I'm not going to fully summarize because this book is so well-known and the plot itself attracted so much controversy - but basically this story, told via alternating flashbacks, is about an inappropriate and abusive sexual relationship between a young girl and her teacher. It follows Vanessa through the "affair," its immediate aftermath, and its deep and unrelenting impact on her life long after. 

I knew enough about this book going in to be aware that it's more than one thing: it's a fictional narrative story, but also a study - an exploration, if you will - by Kate Elizabeth Russell on culture, consent, desire, power, justice, trauma, youth, and much more (basically: a recipe concocted out of everything I’m obsessed with). You can tell that KER ruminated on some of these things for a long, long time, and occasionally it does feel patched together from what may have been academic ramblings (I say that fondly and mean it as a compliment). 

It's so weird to rate a book like this because "good" doesn't always mean "enjoyable." It feels weighted and draggy at times, occasionally amateur, unsophisticated and strange, and also Extremely Not Fun To Read. Very squirmy. But my rating is meant to reflect its bravery, its approach to messy characters and messy situations, the way it embraces - tightly - and portrays - accurately, I think - a super fucked up scenario with super fucked up characters. It also, quite frankly, interested me. This topic interests me.

I've seen many critiques of the length, and agree, though I wonder if maybe KER made it a little long intentionally, proving to us that Vanessa is, or would be, traumatized during the normal, mundane moments as much as the chaotic, dramatic ones. Strane tainted her, ruined her, and she feels that even when we want to look away, or when we're bored; when we aren't entertained.

Ultimately, I'm glad My Dark Vanessa was written. I'm glad it tackles and attempts to unpack what is essentially an unpackable subject. I'm glad I'm living in an age where there is a ton of discourse on this sort of thing - studies, poetry, literature - that will hopefully inform and impact the next generation of women (and men) for the better. Effectively, though, there's barely a conclusion here. Can there be? I don't know. 

To me, one of the biggest takeaways is that the human brain, at every age, in every iteration, is a complicated organ that we simply do not understand. We are confused creatures. We are confused, multifaceted, individual creatures, who have the potential to react to a hundred different scenarios in a thousand different ways, ESPECIALLY - ALMOST ALWAYS - WHEN IT COMES TO SEX.  

This is what prevents certain concepts - like consent and desire and power dynamics - from forming clearly when we're directly involved. It's all still vague, at every age, it's all still a moving and uncomfortable and tricky dilemma, it's all still grey. Of course we throw around words like morality and ethics and right and wrong and advanced civilization, but as I get older and more reflective (on myself as well as society and those around me), I've started to realize that the things we don't know far outweigh the things we do. 

I'm not excusing Strane or blaming Vanessa or any of that. Unquestionably, Strane, plus her school, plus her parents, plus society, even those who truly cared for her, failed Vanessa in multiple tragic ways. I guess I'm just trying to say that any sort of brightness, certainty or moral precision is absent here, as it often is in real life. Some questions that MDV asks, many of them deeply painful, can never be answered. That may be the point.

This should be required reading for everyone. That's all. 

Related reading: Tampa by Alissa Nutting, Lolita, of course. I'd also recommend The Real Lolita by Sarah Weinman, and maybe Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman as a more positive exploration of consuming desire (I’D LOVE TO SEE THESE TWO COMPARED/CONTRASTED). Related viewing: Unbelievable, a Netflix miniseries based on a true story that really points at how young people can be so easily manipulated by "trustworthy" adults around them. I’d also recommend following Kate Elizabeth Russell on Instagram, where she continues to post interesting content related to the themes in her book.

My Dark Vanessa on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Half-Drowned King (The Golden Wolf Saga #1)

5 stars. I cannot express how grateful I am for stories like this during times like these. The tale of Harald Fairhair's conquest of Viking-age Norway doesn't exactly have the most delightful, funny, feel-good vibes, but every time I slipped into these pages I felt relieved - a true escape. The Half-Drowned King is Harald's origin story told through the eyes of Ragnvald Eysteinsson, a young and skilled warrior attempting to navigate his coming-of-age, his birthright, his complicated family, his allegiances, and his desire for glory. After a harrowing betrayal and attempt on his life, Ragnvard finds himself caught between kings and fates as war descends on his harsh, beloved homeland. 

I quite admire this book because what happens in it is unusual. Sure, we have the usual suspects - revenge, duels, shield walls - but we also have flawed characters making imperfect decisions on wavering, unclear journeys. Solvi and Svanhild's relationship, for example, twists and turns in ways I can't stop thinking about. Ragnvold makes predictable mistakes and unpredictably learns from them; in fact, every major character has ugly qualities as well as heroic ones. None of it - within Hartsuyker's halting and unique prose - feels cliche, or typical, or traditional. It reads like a softer, fresher version of The Last Kingdom, though I reject comparisons to ASOIAF (hi, a book can have swords and more than one POV and not be Game of Thrones, thanks). 

I also really appreciated the way Hartsuyker has her characters look back at the sagas and stories and songs of their history similar to the way we look back at, for example, the sagas of Viking-age Norway. When one character tells another that her experiences sound like something from "one of the old songs," it's a self-aware nod to the nature of Hartsuyker's story. And while that nature for sure has an epic fairy tale flavor to it, this technique also essentially grounds and humanizes her heroes and kings (and queens) and underscores the fact that legends have their own legends; no "age" is untouched by the "age" before it. Legacy is a driving force for her characters. I quite love it when a book doubles down on the importance of stories. 

It's a complicated one, and reading it requires energy and effort. Figures poke at and orbit around each other in patchy, tricky ways. But it is rewarding, with its subtleties and deft plotting and its understanding of identity and honor. The politics, once they click into place, are not difficult to grasp. It is as oddly romantic as it is brutal, and I would hope to see the characters eased of their burdens in the future books. I've grown to love them, and I dread their fates. Still, I look forward to escaping into this dark and magical world for a bit longer. I think I will dream of icy waves and crackling fires and roasted meat tonight. 

The Half-Drowned King on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires

5 stars. I loved this. I'm so lucky I snagged it from the library, but I look forward to owning a copy one day so I can re-read my favorite bits. Absolutely epic.  

From the outside, Patricia Campbell has everything a woman could want - sensible husband, two kids, home in a nice neighborhood, a safe community. She's living the suburban dream. Unfortunately, life as a housewife and full-time mother leaves her feeling a bit hollowed out. She jumps at the chance to form a sort-of book club so she and other neighborhood moms can read all things dark and exciting: true crime, horror, and murderrrr books. 

Then a stranger shows up in the neighborhood, and things get weird. Patricia is violently attacked and children begin to disappear in the surrounding area. She's drawn to the stranger, but it soon becomes clear that he's not at all who he says he is - he's actually something much worse. Something that may or may not even be human. 

Like many (but not all) great books about vampires, The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires is not really about the monster. He exists rather in the shadows - in fact, he doesn't even show up until 10% in - as we watch Patricia Try To Have It All and Also Protect Her Children from a Suspicious Threat Even Though Nobody Believes Her.

(It's not actually that cliche - Patricia's a fantastically flawed heroine who messes up a ton with nothing but good, or at least understandable, intentions. Her friends are equally justified and essentially victims of a society designed to cripple women. So.)

Speaking of Nobody Believing Her, holy shit - I squirmed so much through the middle of the book, just prior to the flashforward. The term humiliation horror crossed my mind more than once as Patricia's character was completely squashed by the true monster of the book: her husband. All the husbands. All of them deserved so much worse than they got. I was hoping for a truly satisfying I Told You So moment, just to watch the tables turn. They deserved to be vampire food, all of them. Oh well. 

In many ways this book was exactly what I expected: a charming look at a group of strong and spirited Southern housewives versus a vampire in the 90s. In other ways, though, I was completely surprised. This book is so much more than a thrilling monster fight. It is a cultural study, a piece of anthropology, a tribute to imperfect efforts, a long overdue testament to the housewife, a deep and painful critique of the trash husbands of the not-so-distant past. It shouts loudly about the shittiness of marriage and parenting and adult friendships and the suburbs. It offers grotesque horror alongside hilarious moments. Slight uneven packing aside, there's snappy dialogue and true courage and a lovely wrap-up that left me grinning. Grady Hendrix nailed in. 

The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: In An Absent Dream (Wayward Children #4)

4 stars. What an incredible fairy tale. I love the way Seanan McGuire makes room for the in-between individuals: those of us who are average, plain, decidedly not superstars but who deserve star treatment anyway. This one felt just as preachy as the others, but I appreciated the message more - even as it was being screamed in my ear.

In An Absent Dream focuses on Katherine Lundy, who escapes to the Goblin Market where there is no asking - there is only exchange for fair value. Though she loves and embraces her new home, she feels pulled towards her old one, caught between two worlds, two ways of life, two families. Desperate to cheat the system and have both, she makes a choice and is punished accordingly, which is how she winds up at Eleanor West’s School for Wayward Children. 

It contains all things I’ve grown to expect from Seanan McGuire: a deft exploration of gender, society, and other themes (in this case, fairness), emphasis on the space in-between the adventures rather than the adventures themselves, a flavor of caution that tastes so like a fairy tale, witty writing, delicious world-building. I’ve mentioned before that these books always inspire me and make me consider where my own door would go … knowing there will be a price, of course. 

Whimsical, clever and brutal. 

In An Absent Dream on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads