Jane Alexandra

⭐⭐⭐⭐1/2

One of the most unsettling books I’ve ever read. Kunzru perfectly depicts the way online extremism seeps into everyday life through algorithms and social media ecosystems.

What makes this book especially effective is how realistic the narrator’s fear feels, and Kunzru powerfully conveys the narrator’s hopelessness at the thought of living in a country ruled by a right-wing-ruled country, and rather than depicting dictatorship as a fantastical dystopia, he shows how easily democratic societies can drift toward fear, surveillance, and ideological conformity, and the atmosphere of dread lingers long after the book ends.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dark and tense, with an 80’s slasher vibe I’ve only seen successfully recreated in Adam Green movies.

This is the first Malerman book I’ve read, but I’ll certainly be looking out for more.

Aside for the general air of terror underlying his writing, the way he depicts panic attacks is incredible, and I love how he thought to mention the little understood fact that sometimes they can be about nothing at all.

I also love the mystery surrounding Daphne herself, and how everyone willing to talk about her has different, sometimes conflicting information, and how Malerman keeps you guessing what’s happening until the very end.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Unsettling, upsetting, and fairly fast paced.

The only other piece of media I can think of to use an abandoned ship so well is “Man of Medan”, and maybe it’s just because I’m scared of water and storms, but this comes pretty close to the level of excitement I felt the first time I played that game.

I love the use of both physical and emotional distance, and I felt the tension and shared trauma between Ruby and Charlie was very well written.

I also enjoyed Golden’s lore creation and how the circle has a purpose and ancient roots à la Grady Hendrix instead of just saying “They’re doing a human sacrifice because they’re evil witches and it’s just what they do.”

And surprisingly, I really appreciate the unhappy ending because, after all of that, I think it would feel like a cop-out if Ruby got to live.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

The five stages of grief, indeed.

This is the second time I’ve finished a Hendrix book in floods of tears, and I don’t know if I want to hug him or fight him.

The way he writes sibling relationships is so true to life in my experience, and I fear I see shades of my sister and I in Louise and Mark fighting - although I can’t really see myself cutting her arm off. I mean, who knows if/when the time comes? But that’s where I stand as of now.

I also love how his writing is terrifying and silly at the same time. One moment it’s poetic and graphic, and the next it’s a delightful word salad.

And as someone who’s been terrified dolls, puppets, and clowns my entire life - thanks a lot Are You Afraid of The Dark? - I’m so mad that I was baited into this thinking it was about the house itself and not Mother’s creepy collection.

Aside from that, the emotional agony is so raw and real, and I somehow feel lighter and cleaner now.

⭐⭐⭐ 1/2

Compelling and tense, but still somewhat of a let down in my opinion.

The portrayal of psychology felt kind of questionable to me in that some of Theo’s statements seem more like an armchair expert’s opinions as opposed to being based in science, and I was quite surprised to find out Michaelides is a trained psychotherapist himself - unless, of course, I missed something stating this was just Theo’s thinking and not the author’s.

The framing of the timeline was fantastic, and I had a verbal WTF moment when I realised what was happening, although the pacing the pacing before that revelation felt quite slow.

That said, the novel’s biggest strength lies in its ending. The twist really was the last thing I expected, and it really puts into perspective that, while therapy can be exceptionally useful, we do put immense trust in these people we know nothing about.

⭐⭐⭐

“Carmilla” is short, sweet, and punchy.

While Le Fanu’s writing is certainly dated and, at times, a little difficult to follow, he managed to keep the story interesting and on track and - if you don’t like “Dracula” slander, avert your eyes - this is what Stoker should have aspired to in my opinion.

Le Fanu created a sufficiently tense and mysterious atmosphere, and I felt like I knew the characters and was able to care about them and celebrate Laura surviving to tell the tale.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Adding this to the “Books That Finished Me” list.

I’ve seen a lot of criticism directed at Hendrix because ‘a man can’t know what it’s like to be a pregnant teenage girl’, which is fair on the surface. However, the book does seem to be very thoughtful and well researched, and he states in the acknowledgements that he does have an emotional connection to the subject matter as it affected multiple family members, and he wanted to understand what they’d been through. And personally, I think it’s a really good thing that men are actually considering the impact of “maternity homes” and the lives they devastated, and I’ll support any piece of media that brings attention to them - excluding YouTube cash-grab true crime slop, of course. On top of that, I like how he writes the girls as real people with complex inner workings instead of “othering” them, and how he’s able to illustrate the indignities the system put them through without putting them in the fridge like a lot of male authors.

I also appreciate the fact that he worked with closely with several lawyers to ensure he got “surrender” and adoption laws correct for the time and location, and several covens to build the lore of Miss Parcae’s coven and the “Groovy Witch” handbook respectfully instead of just throwing together any old clichés and superstitions. Honestly, I’d give him points for attention to detail even if I didn’t like the novel itself.

⭐

Having never read any of Burgess’ other works, I don’t know if the confused narrative is his normal style or if it’s just meant to bolster the theme of communication breaking down, but I found it annoying and difficult to follow. I did however watch the adaptation, and I’m quite shocked that Burgess also wrote the screenplay because I found that to be entertaining and very well put together, although that may be due to the screenplay not including long-winded, tangential descriptions of people/places/events, or children engaging in incest.

⭐⭐⭐1/2

This book is a walking contradiction, and I’m so here for it. It’s pretty short, but kind of a slow-burn at the same time with Joanna’s suspicion mounting and then falling off as she’s repeatedly gaslit by (almost) everyone around her, so that by the time her “end” comes, she’s in a state of disbelieving acceptance. The delivery of Levin’s critique on gender roles was subtle at the time, but hits very hard when put in a 21st-century context, and the conversations it evokes about identity, autonomy, and societal expectations are still - unfortunately - spectacularly relevant.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 1/2

One thing that really got me about this book is that it took me to the very last pages to figure out if I was reading an actual ghost story or just the imaginings of a mad woman. I also love the back and forth between Harry’s and Javier’s pasts, and how their lives had eerie similarities while their experiences were worlds apart.

The only downside in my opinion is that there are a few too many horror references, and after a while it gets a bit samey how Harry repeatedly likens events, feelings, and visuals to iconic horror scenes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 1/2

Tremblay manages to take a cliché idea - something bad happens at a cabin in the woods - and morph it into a deep contemplation of faith and fate, and the ways we react when our ideas of those things are challenged.

His ability to steer clear of definitive answers to our deepest questions and offer the concept of faith as something that can easily lead us astray and make us doubt everything we think we know makes his writing particularly powerful.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I always go into modern gothic horror with some degree of apprehension, but Sager knows how to emulate the classics. One of his greatest strengths is his ability to explore how the past can haunt the present, and make the location seem alive and as if it has a will of its own.

I love the back and forth between then and now, and how it still would’ve made sense and kept me guessing if I’d read it in chronological order, as opposed to the book within the book holding a key to the true ending.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Somehow more compelling and intimate than the first instalment. The relationships of our three Operators feel even deeper, and the slow build of their willingness to share more of themselves and to be truly known feels earned, as does Evelyn’s decision to stay in Pinehaven and protect it at all costs.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I feel like I’ll be thinking about this for quite a while, and I’m very excited to dive into the second instalment. Byron writing her characters as brutally open about their traumas feels like reading a good friend’s diary, and she does a great job of driving the feeling of being desperate for connections into you without harping on and making it stale. I also love how the way Evelyn banter feels a little forced at first - like when you’re actually testing the waters with a new acquaintance - but soon slips into natural banter.

The writing feels a little slow at times, but not in a bad way - like it’s a way to not only describe the horrors in full, but also to let you sit with the lighter moments and take in a little peace.