As autumn deepens into darkness in Lidingö, on the Stockholm archipelago, the island is plunged into chaos: in the space of a week, two teenagers, the son of the island’s mayor and that of a powerful businessman, are brutally murdered. Their bodies are left deep in the forest, dressed in white tunics with crowns of candles atop their heads, like offerings to Saint Lucia. Maïa Rehn has fled Paris for Lidingö, where her husband grew up, trying to come to terms with the death of their only child in a car accident. But when the murders shake the island community, the former police commissioner is drawn into the heart of the investigation, joining Commissioner Aleksander Storm to unravel a mystery as chilling as the Nordic winter. As they dig deeper, it becomes clear that a wind of vengeance is blowing through the archipelago, unearthing secrets that are as scandalous as they are inhuman. But what if the victims weren’t who they seemed? What if those long silenced had finally found a way to strike back? How far would they go to make their tormentors pay? And you – how far would you go?
I loved the timing of this novel from Johanna Gustawsson, her second set on the island of Lidingö in the cold, dark run up to Christmas. Here she bases her murder mystery around the feast of St Lucia and it begins when a body is found in the traditional dress of the festival. The victim is wearing a white tunic that’s been slit up the back, with a red sash and a crown of candles representing the festival of light. It reminded me of the locally held Christingle services, where small children in white hold a symbolic orange with a lighted candle in it and a red ribbon meant to symbolise Christ’s blood and his role as the Light of the World. It was something I’d never encountered before, being Catholic it wasn’t part of our tradition, but it fits into the many festivals that bring light to the winter months such as Hanukkah and Diwali. The festival and the victim’s clothing make the scene of the crime even more dramatic and hard to forget. It also throws up immediate questions about whether the date or the costume is a message from the killer. Visiting French detective Maia Rehn offers her help to local commissioner Aleksander Storm and they begin to investigate together. It soon becomes clear that the killer isn’t finished with the island community and the pair must work very fast, prizing secrets from people who are reluctant to talk and digging up long buried events that will devastate and destroy lives.
One of the things I love most about this series is the atmosphere that the author builds. This is not the average crime novel, it definitely has a more Gothic feel that I would normally associate with folk horror.
“It was hardly an ocean this mere strip of sea. A moat more like – cutting Lidingo off from the life of the Stockholm mainland. A ghost infested moat, surrounding a poisoned island”.
This killing takes the community back several years to the murder and rape of a young woman dressed in her St Lucia costume. The victim is Jennifer, a well known and liked teenager in the community whose white dress and crown gives the impression of a angel in the snow. Jennifer was the daughter of Sophie Ackerman who bonds with Maia at a party, when they realise that both of them have lost a child. The pain and confusion of these unexpected and sudden losses have no descriptive word in the Swedish language, only the Sanskrit word ‘vilomah’ comes close, meaning ‘against the natural order.’ Motherhood and who we become when we lose a child is a theme of the novel and drives home that violent deaths affect a whole community. In fact, following the death of Jennifer Ackerman suspicions fell on her friend Gustav who found her body. The way the community treated Gustav, as well as the grief, caused him to commit suicide. It’s such an important theme that the novel’s opening takes us to a classroom on the island where Gustav’s mother holds everyone at gunpoint, blaming them for the death of her grief stricken son. These events and the darkening winter days hang heavy over the tiny island. Maia describes the loss of her son with such beautiful and haunting words that let us know he is still so present in her thoughts she almost expects him to materialise:
‘He’s everywhere around me, so I’m always waiting for […] a word, a sound, the slightest caress from him. I find myself sniffing the air for the scent of him’.
Sophie talks about her daughter Jennifer in the words of Cyrano de Bergerac, showing that she is still ever present for her too. It’s such a beautiful way of describing grief that comes in waves, some days it seems far away and other days it feels as if the loss was yesterday. I identified with this so much, knowing that even ten or twenty years on there are days when the grief feels painfully fresh. How much worse it must be with violent deaths where there are feelings of anger, guilt, resentment and so many questions left unanswered.
‘Her name is in my heart like a bell. Every time I think of her it’s like I can hear that bell ringing and ringing and the memories and feelings resurface every time’.
As the investigation unfolds it is clear that Maĩan and Aleks work quite differently, but complement each other. He is more of a facts person, whereas she picks up on emotion and her own feelings, heightened by tragedy, seem to have honed this skill. As an outsider she also seems more effective at getting people to talk, something that can be a struggle when a detective lives in the community they’re investigating. Their discoveries are both haunting and horrifying – especially a ‘trophy’ find that absolutely turned my stomach. Some of the themes were very timely, aside from the normal teenage themes of peer pressure, relationship angst and experimentation, there are also more up to date themes of incels, grooming and consent. I found it fascinating that Swedish law reform in 2018 placed the emphasis on positive consent so that rape was no longer defined by saying no, but the absence of actively saying yes. It recognises that when backed into a corner, freezing and becoming unresponsive are normal survival instincts and not consent, so threat and physical force don’t have to be present for an incident to be defined as rape. When we are finally taken to the night Jennifer Ackerman died it is hard to read, but that’s how it should be. This first incident is like a veil of darkness triumphing over light. It’s as if the island loses its innocence. I loved that the answers don’t come easily and the tendrils of the aftermath are everywhere. This is a vivid, symbolic and haunting crime story and the truth is devastating – a gradually revealed horror that has echoed down the generations of this isolated community.
Out now from Orenda Books
Meet the Author
Born in Marseille, France, and with a degree in Political Science, Johana Gustawssonhas worked as a journalist for the French and Spanish press and Her critically acclaimed Roy & Castells series, including Block 46, Keeper and Blood Song, has won the Plume d’Argent, Balai de la découverte, Balai d’Or and Prix Marseillais du Polar awards, and is now published in nineteen countries. A TV adaptation is currently under way in a French, Swedish and UK co-production. The Bleeding was a number-one bestseller in France and is the first in a new series. Johana lives in Sweden with her Swedish husband and their three sons.
Winifred Notty arrives at Ensor House prepared to play the perfect Victorian governess. She’ll dutifully tutor her charges, Drusilla and Andrew, tell them bedtime stories, and only joke about eating children. But the longer Winifred spends within the estate’s dreary confines and the more she learns of the perversions and pathetic preoccupations of the Pounds family, the more trouble she has sticking to her plan.
Whether creeping across the moonlit lawns in her undergarments or gently tormenting the house staff, Winifred struggles at every turn to stifle the horrid compulsions of her past until her chillingly dark imagination breaches the feeble boundary of reality on Christmas morning.
Having seen this billed as a Victorian horror comedy and having a taste for the macabre I thought this would be my perfect read and it definitely was. If you ever wondered whether the governess was the psychopath in The Turn of the Screw, then this is the book for you. Here our young governess Winifred arrives at Ensor House to take charge of Drusilla and Andrew Pound, however she isn’t just teaching them French, instilling a Christian faith and charitable nature, along with their etiquette. Winifred has instead set herself a very different and unexpected agenda.
“It is early fall, the cold is beginning to descend, and in three months everyone in this house will be dead.”
So, alongside her everyday duties to the children she slinks around the house unnoticed by the rest of the family – cutting the eyes out of the ancestral portraits, stealing the children and bloodthirstily stalking the servants. Miss Natty is the perfect killer because of her position. I love reading about governesses in fiction because of their liminal position in a household, not as elevated as the family of the house and certainly not in the ranks of the servants. Too educated to fit in downstairs but as someone who earns a living, she’s definitely below the family. In one sense this could make her lonely at Ensor, but it also gives her an incredible amount of freedom. Governesses have bedrooms near the children, but the nanny will be on night duty. She’s free to roam with impunity, carrying out her horrible deeds. By day she’s teaching good manners and Christian values but by night she’s free to follow her darkest obsessions.
“It fascinates me, the fact that humans have the capacity to mortally wound one another at will, but for the most part, choose not to.”
Disturbingly I found this character rather amusing, there’s a certain quirkiness about her that’s appealing and in places I found myself laughing. She is our narrator so we have her inner monologue as well as the havoc she creates. Miss Natty notices everything in the house with the skill of a psychotherapist: observing the servants, the family and their visitors closely to decide who will be murdered next. She’s weighing up their behaviour and those who are unkind and treat others badly will be in the firing line first. As she becomes increasingly murderous, with plenty of gore flying around, she is most definitely enjoying herself and so are we. What has turned this young woman into a potential psychopath? The author has written this book with the staid politeness of a Victorian novel, contrasting sharply with the mayhem being described. It added to the humour and my enjoyment. Of course there’s a feminist slant to this, the men in the house know it all, explaining away any anger and displeasure from their wives as hysteria. Meanwhile their particular shortcomings go unacknowledged. I think we’re still told a lot about how to behave as women and books like these with a female protagonist who commits terrible acts with total abandon and enjoyment is like a release valve. Her tongue can be as sharp as her scalpel, bringing them rapidly down to size. She is breaking every convention, particularly that of the Victorian ‘angel in the house.’ I felt like the author had taken the two Mrs Rochesters from Thornfield Hall and put them in one woman; the quiet and unassuming governess and the murderous madwoman in the attic. She is so incredibly clever and likes her revenge to come, not cold, but sharply, precisely and decorated with liberal amounts of blood.
Out now from Fourth Estate Books
Meet the Author
A native of Spain, Virginia Feito was raised in Madrid and Paris, and studied English and drama at Queen Mary University of London. She lives in Madrid, where she writes her fiction in English. Victorian Psycho is being adapted for a feature film.
There was such an atmospheric opening to this last novel in the Annie Jackson series, setting up the link between the incredible scenery and Scottish folklore. Then we see Annie in her safe place, the little cottage she calls home nestled in the middle of nowhere. The only place where she gets some respite from the ‘murmurs’, the terrible portents of death she suffers when she meets someone who is going to die. They are a curse, not just because of the painfully loud noise in her head but because if she tells someone they rarely listen and if she doesn’t she’s left racked with guilt. She is taking in some fresh air outside, when she falls into the stream that runs at the front of the cottage. It’s freezing cold and reminds us that whenever Annie starts to feel safe, something comes along to challenge that sense of peace. This time it’s her brother Lewis and his girlfriend Clare with some brilliant news, they’re having a baby. Annie is so excited for them, but there is a downside. Even though it’s very early days, Annie is worried that this child will inherit the family curse of the murmurs. Maybe there’s a chance she can put the curse to bed? The woman who tried to kill her wants Annie to visit her in prison. Sylvia Lowry-Law was pulled into the dark arts by a professor at her university and believed that sacrificing Annie would raise an ancient demon to do her bidding. Now she needs Annie’s help in tracing the son she had adopted 17 years ago. Could this boy be the key to a future where she’s not waiting for the next murmurs to hit? That would be life-changing for Annie, not to mention Claire and Lewis’s baby.
This is a complicated story that Michael Malone tells with multiple narrators and different time frames, slowly bringing them all together to solve the mystery. Linking with the opening section, there’s a boy called Drew who feels bonded with a wolf cub more than the family around him.
“I was a wolf. And I was a boy. It was a long time ago. They wore funny clothes […] I would run away from my mother and be a wolf. And we were killed. They said we were witches”.
It’s been quite a year for witches and books that hark back to King James VI of Scotland and all of them have been incredible reads. Here Malone alludes to the dangerous atmosphere in that time, where even the remotest villages were aware the King had given licence for witchfinders to root out anyone seen as different or troublesome. They would be tested against the king’s book Daemonologie then strangled and burned at the stake. Drew clearly has a similar ancestry to Annie and perhaps a long line of ancestors fighting against lycanthropy. His family are emigrating and as usual the author takes us deep inside the character. Drew’s childhood narrative is so emotive because I understood his feeling overwhelmed in an airport full of people and having to feel all the layers of their anxiety. All he wants to do is curl up quietly with his fellow wolf cubs and when he’s pushed, his shout sounds more like a wolf howl – a definite cold feeling down the spine moment. Then there’s Annie and Lewis who are a great investigative pairing, Annie has bags of empathy and insight even without the murmurs and Lewis is well versed in the technology side of investigation, but one thing they both have is a stubbornness that means once they’ve started looking they can’t stop until it’s done, even when the costs for Lewis become very high. They both go to Ashmoor Hospital, the psychological facility where Sylvia is being treated, but she wants to see Annie alone. What she asks for is help finding her son and puts them on to her lawyer Bernard Peters, a timid soul who has worked for her several years as his grandfather did before him. They were helping trace her family and a rather familiar and colourful tale emerges:
“Witches and curses and twin sisters who fought over a man, leading to one of them being burned at the stake”.
There is a sense here of history repeating itself through generations. It blends with Scottish folklore and it being a ‘thin place’, the term for places where the veil between this and the spirit world is almost transparent – those that believe and can tune into it of course. Bernard is astounded by the prominent people who are caught up in this strange ancient order that Sylvia belongs to. She tells him she owned his grandfather and that there are secret records that must be protected. Bernard’s grandfather dying suddenly, leaves some of this dark and dangerous business undone. Even as they try to help him they can’t wait to get into the secret room he’s been searching in. There are secrets in here that could bring down very powerful people, but why would the order keep them? Again it brings to mind current news, the Epstein Files and the buzz around having them released, bringing into the spotlight people we could never have imagined to be involved. I felt for Bernard because everyone else has some understanding of the background to this, but he’s blindsided. Also everyone else is here by choice, whereas he is thrust into the middle of it by birth and the death of someone he loved and looked up to. Now he’s implicated in a widespread network of influence and blackmail. The author balances all these narrative viewpoints so well and each section brings a little more information, with sudden little discoveries that fill in gaps and definitely drip feed tension to the story.
This series has always been an unusual mix of thriller, family saga, horror, magic, folklore and crime. It defies being placed in a genre and I often find that’s where the best and most surprising reads are. It was lovely to have Sister Theresa make a cameo, with her sketchy grasp of data protection she’s a real asset in finding out about the past and nuns are often very quirky and unusual individuals I’ve always found. I left this novel less worried about Annie, I had always wondered if the isolation and loneliness of life with her gift would overwhelm her. Here I felt like Annie’s murmurs took a bit of a back seat, but she gets stronger with each book; a more resilient heroine who still has an otherworldly and mysterious air about her. I always imagine her rather like Kate Bush, which is always a compliment. The more she finds out about her family, the more settled she seems to be and is still working in the local café despite previous incidents with customers whose deaths she could see. However, as we raced towards the ending with tension in bucketloads I couldn’t be sure she’d be safe. The order is a many tentacled monster and I wondered if they would really be able to sever and destroy all its parts. As Sylvia says, they have ‘fingers in a lot of very interesting pies’. There is no depth they won’t stoop to and they operate very quickly indeed as Lewis finds out. I can’t ever imagine that Lewis and Annie will give up investigating and trying to help others, it doesn’t seem in their nature to kick back and enjoy the quiet life. Not for long anyway.
Meet the Author
Michael Malone is a prize-winning poet and author who was born and brought up in the heart of Burns’ country. He has published over 200 poems in literary magazines throughout the UK, including New Writing Scotland, Poetry Scotland and Markings. Blood Tears, his bestselling debut novel won the Pitlochry Prize from the Scottish Association of Writers. His dark psychological thriller, A Suitable Lie, was a number-one bestseller, and is currently in production for the screen, and five powerful standalone thrillers followed suit. The Murmurs and The Torments, first in the Annie Jackson Mysteries series, were published to critical acclaim in 2023. A former Regional Sales Manager (Faber) he has also worked as an IFA and a bookseller. Michael lives in Ayr, where he also works as a hypnotherapist.
Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein, was born in 1797 to politician and writer William Godwin and his wife and fellow writer, Mary Wollstonecraft who wrote The Vindication of the Rights of Women. In her book she made, possibly the first, claim that women were not naturally inferior to men. It was a feminist manifesto centuries ahead of it’s time. Sadly Mary’s mother died only eleven days after she was born from puerperal fever, leaving Godwin to raise Mary as a single father. However, he remarried in 1801 to a widow with two children of her own, Clare being very near in age to her stepsister Mary. In 1841 Mary became connected to the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, a well-known writer who was already married with three children. Shelley was 22 and Mary was 16. Facing nothing but criticism and social sanctions in London, the couple decided to escape to the continent along with Mary’s step-sister Clare. They then settled for a time on Lake Geneva, sharing a house with Lord Byron and his doctor Polidori. As the weather changed they become snowed in for a period of time and one of the diversions thought up by Byron was that each of them write a ghost story. Up until this point, Mary has only written in her journal but she can feel something stirring within her and in this strange place, Frankenstein’s monster is born.
Probably every English Graduate who specialised in Gothic Fiction has fantasised about a stormy night, in a house on the edge of a lake near Geneva. That night was supposedly the genesis of the first vampire story – Polidori’s The Vampyre – and Mary Shelley’s classic horror, Frankenstein. It always seemed strange to me, how two iconic horror legends were conjured up in the same place on the same night. Of course it was a longer period of time and everything these writers experienced in their young lives so far was fuel for their creativity. The setting is definitely strange and unsettling. Caroline Lea paints a picture of the lake becoming monstrous, magical but evil too and no longer a place where children paddle and dive underwater. The sky is dark, trees look like ‘funeral lace’ and ash rains down from above. Local people have noticed that at times the lake throws up strange shadows and clouds, some that look like sky cities floating in the air. When they find a man called Karl Vogel drowned in the lake with his eyes turned from brown to blue – they are shocked, but this is a place of transformation. It’s as if nature is creating the perfect circumstances for monsters to be born.
This incredible book. is a brilliant combination of historical and horror fiction, with a large side order of feminism – all of my favourite things. Every time I put the book down I would look at my husband and say ‘wow’ then try to write down everything that struck me. I ended up with ten pages of notes that I now need to build into coherent sentences and do this novel justice! Firstly the historical settings were incredible. When we first meet Mary and Clare, they are living in lowly lodgings in London. Mary’s baby is born and they are desperately trying to avoid the bailiffs that seem to follow Shelley wherever he goes. The author really captures 18th Century London with the girl’s filthy lodgings a bleak place to look after a baby. They’re also struggling to sleep, worried that any moment their flimsy door will be kicked down. This is the reality of being the mistress and illegitimate child of a well-known poet who does not pay his debts and has retreated back to his family home. I never imagined that Shelley left her in this position. I’d imagined them living on Lake Geneva complete with servants and all the excesses that Byron was famous for, then travelling around Europe, leaving their troubles behind them. Their relationship would probably be considered abusive now, not just because of their age difference but because of the way Shelley manipulates her. Something that only worsens when Byron and his peculiar brand of chaos are on the scene. When Mary tries to stick up for herself, all the qualities he supposedly loved about her – her independence, her spirit, her intelligence – are thrown back at her, in order to control, manipulate and punish her. He calls her a good mother, but also accuses her of fretting and becoming boring. It is her independent spirit that landed her in Shelley’s arms but he’d rather she didn’t have the independence to question him, refuse him or leave him. His threat is very clear:
‘Women who leave their children, will never see them again’.
Of course Shelley wouldn’t give up his carefree life to look after his child. He would probably hire a string of nursemaids to seduce then discard, until his only option is to dump his son on his long suffering wife who is pregnant again. Mary starts to realise that although he professes to love her, once she has become a mother she is always expendable. My urge to slap Mary’s step-sister Clare started early in the book and flared up very frequently. She has absolutely no girl code. She had left with Mary in the hope of rekindling a brief liason with Byron. However, it’s clear she’s happy to switch affections if he isn’t there, even onto Shelley. She flirts and simpers, touching his arm and holding his hand to guide her outside. Byron’s treatment of Clare is utterly cruel, he manages to ghost her even when they’re finally face to face. He refuses to acknowledge she exists and then only picks her up again when the weather descends and there are no other prospects. Despite this it is hard to like her, especially when she gains snippets of information from Shelley only to drop them on Mary when they’ll hurt the most. The arrogance of both poets is endless! Byron isn’t just a seducer of women, he drinks and takes laudanum at every opportunity too. He abuses his supposed friend and doctor Polidori, considering him dull and mimicking his stutter in front of the women. His own disability is never mentioned by anyone – the limping stride he’s had since childhood is overlooked or even compensated for as Mary notices some people unconsciously falling into step next to him, slowing their stride to match his. His impulsivity is like that of a toddler, moving mid-week from a hotel to the house on the lake, determined not to pay for the weeklong stay he originally booked. It will cost more for the hotelier to clean up after his bizarre animals, including two eagles, a huge dog and a monkey. He sets his sights on Mary and despite his magnetism she can see what he truly is – a boy throwing mud at windows to detract from his own badness and shortcomings.
The setting is glorious and it’s clear why frozen mountains, cavernous lakes and the arctic weather feature heavily in Frankenstein. It’s where Mary goes to have time to think, away from the chaos and hedonism indoors. The seemingly magical weather conditions are explicable, even though they feel supernatural. Lake Geneva is known for throwing up mirages called ‘Fata Morgana’. They take the form of distorted boats just above the horizon or even ‘castles in the air’, where a whole city seems projected into the clouds. Named after Morgan Le Fay the mirages are created by rays of light pass through air layers of different temperatures. The sheets of ice on a lake keep the surface air cooler than in the layers above. It’s easy to see why people might by unnerved by something that appears so otherworldly. A more psychological phenomenon that’s clearly takes hold within the house is cognitive dissonance, felt strongly by Mary in particular. The villa is starting to feel like a place she doesn’t belong because her emotions and reactions don’t seem to match anyone else’s in the group.
‘She feels like a stranger in the foreign land of this room, unable to understand their bright chatter and loud laughter […] every moment takes her further away from these awful people who carry on as if she isn’t there at all’.
Motherhood and the reality of being Shelley’s mistress has changed Mary and it’s so relatable. She wonders whether all women feel pulled in so many different directions at once. She also wonders if she ever had a true understanding with Shelley. A fire that lit up her heart and her mind is now glimpsed very rarely and she wonders if it ever truly existed. Has she fallen in love with her idea of Shelley – the one who creates the grand illusion of romance in his poems. He doesn’t love her, merely the idea of love itself. In disappointment with all men she turns to the wisdom of women, particularly her mother’s work. Mary Wollstonecraft was the first woman to write a feminist manifesto and she truly understood what needed to change for women – the problem of having to depend on a man. She realised that nurturing women’s learning was the first step:
‘Strengthen then the female mind by enlarging it and there will be an end to blind obedience’.
Women could only overcome their dependence on men if they were educated and could earn their own living. In Mary’s dark night of the soul she hears her mother’s voice encouraging and coaching her and the minute she does Mary’s able to breathe again and see a clear way to support herself – by selling her writing. Once she can do that, it no longer matters whether Shelley is inconstant or distant – she does not depend upon him for security and stability. She is ashamed that despite her intellect she has allowed this man to reduce her. Yet she has to tread a fine balance and think these things rather than say them outright. She fears that Polidori’s friendship with the two men, means they have convenient access to a doctor. If she fully expresses what she feels might Shelley think her mad and seek to have her committed? However, she is furious that she might be asked, yet again, to grant forgiveness to a man who is not sorry. She feels that both poets have taken and ruined promising young women, not caring that the consequences of their actions will rest solely on the girl’s shoulders. She wonders what it must be like to take up space in the world, to believe it is your birthright to dictate the temperature of every room they’re in. It is Byron’s arrogance that becomes her blueprint for a future self, allowing herself to be angry and consequences to be damned. She wants to be more like him, true to her emotions and principles and saying exactly what she thinks without worrying about the outcome. In fact it’s a dalliance with Byron where Mary seems to find more strength. It’s an uncomplicated exchange of desire, full of passion, but at no paint does he take anything from her. It gives her the strength to confront Shelley about returning to his wife and leaving both women at the mercy of debt collectors, out of sight and out of mind. She finds her voice and addresses Shelley as a man, rather than the great poet, making her feelings about his infidelity very clear, but also pointing out his cowardice and the times he hasn’t been there for her.
I loved how the story of Frankenstein’s monster is psychological fragments stitched together, just like the monster himself. Through writing Mary processes her own emotions and thoughts which then feed into the emotions of the abandoned monster. She remembers stories of medical students digging up bodies and stealing them for dissection. Then she gives the creature an internal monologue, ripe with the emotions she has felt, but never expressed. Frankenstein leaves his monster just as Shelley left Mary and their baby in squalor. She’s writing a criticism of men who create with no thought for the thing they’ve created. Victor Frankenstein goes to sleep expecting his creature to die and feels nothing. The creature meanwhile feels a combination of Mary’s grief and abandonment, first losing her mother and then the loss of her father, a man who brought her up to have a rebellious spirit and think for herself, but rejected her when she lives by these principles. Mary is this bewildered and angry creature and that’s perhaps why she gives her monster the equivalent of philosopher John Locke’s tabula rasa – the blank slate of a small child ready to experience nature, love and all that is beautiful. Frankenstein’s monster embodies the nature/nurture debate in that the creature isn’t born evil, it’s other people’s cruel treatment of him that makes him monstrous. Her writing has processed all these feelings and working through them makes her feel hopeful for the first time. She might return to London with her son and instead of being beholden to Shelley or her father, she could keep them both with her own writing.
Typically, blinded by his own arrogance Shelley doesn’t see himself in Victor Frankenstein at all. At first Mary thinks he’s feigning ignorance, but he genuinely can’t see his own reflection. He sees too much ambiguity in the story, thinking either the creature should make Victor look at his own shortcomings or she should make it so monstrous that no reasonable person would expect Victor to care for it. I loved the way she takes his criticism, because it shows us how much Mary has grown up. She realises that at every stage on the way to publication there will be a man who wants to shout his opinion. It doesn’t matter, because she knows they will all be mistaken. The book, like the creature at it’s centre, will be sent out into the wilderness looking for a creator. She’s fairly sure it will find one, because she knows her book is special. As for Caroline’s book, this is an absolute masterpiece and made me think about Frankenstein from so many different angles. Caroline Lea’s Mary take us through the psychological trauma and brings to life her relationship with Shelley, often told in a rather salacious or romantic way without any thought to the inequality between them. Through this experience she guides the reader through the genesis of this incredible novel. It is stitched together from so many different parts, but here we can see them all and understand the circumstances they come from. What Caroline has written is a Bildungsroman, a novel of Mary’s rebirth from girlhood to womanhood. Frankenstein is the chronicle of that birth, as messy, terrifying, horrific and momentous as it is. This birth being the genesis of Mary Shelley as a woman but also as a writer of one of the most important novels in literature.
Meet the Author
Caroline Lea grew up in Jersey and gained a First in English Literature and Creative Writing from the University of Warwick, where she has also taught on the Creative Writing degree. Her fiction and poetry have been longlisted for the BBC Short Story Prize and Sunday Times Short Story Award, and shortlisted for the Bridport Prize, the Fish Short Story Competition and various flash fiction prizes. Her novel, THE GLASS WOMAN, was published to critical acclaim and shortlisted for the HWA Debut Crown. Her next novel, THE METAL HEART, was Scottish Waterstones Book of the Month. Her most recent novel, PRIZE WOMEN was featured and acclaimed on BBC Women’s Hour. Caroline is passionate about helping other writers to grow and succeed: she teaches creative writing both privately and, currently, for Writing West Midlands and is often recruited to give talks at literary festivals and events. She currently lives in Warwick with her partner and children and is working on her next novel about Mary Shelley writing Frankenstein. Her books often feature ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances.
I have a fascination for the idea of ‘thin places’ – where there’s only a thin veil between our world and the spirit world, or possibly passages to another time or dimension. I am swayed towards the idea that it’s where something traumatic happened and left an imprint on a place, so that however much time passes, the events of that day can break through and be replayed almost like an echo of the original event through time. Ava Brent is a journalist who is investigating one such place. The Overtoun Estate is a strange and looming presence over town and no one seems to know it’s specific history, but it’s rumoured to be a thin place, steeped in myth. The legend is about a bridge where it’s claimed many dogs have thrown themselves to their deaths. The locals steer clear and when Ava begins to ask questions the warm welcome she received at first becomes a cold shoulder. When she discovers that a sick young girl lived there, the sadness that surrounds the building starts to make sense. Ava is expecting her first child so is maybe susceptible to this tale, but a message scratched into a windowsill fills her with horror. What happened here and is she really prepared for what she may discover? What might her fascination with this place cost? As her life begins to unravel, she knows she should cut her losses and walk away. Then threats start to arise, but Ava can’t deny that despite the fear she is compelled to return.
This was an excellent slow burn gothic novel from an author that was completely new to me. I am interested in tales of motherhood and the paranormal, brought to my attention at university where I was influenced by Frankenstein and Rosemary’s Baby on my Gothic, Grotesque and Monstrous course. There’s something about the extraordinary changes in the body and the idea of another person growing inside you that’s open to the world of monsters; rather like a human set of Russian nesting dolls. I think it’s also horrifying when a horror exploits that moment when both mother and baby are at their most vulnerable. Ava is drawn to the specific bridge on the property, despite the strange and eerie feelings that congregate there. Ava is taken in by it’s ’otherworldliness’ and slowly it takes over her life. The author lets us into Ava’s inner world by devoting some of the narrative to her journal entries where page after page is devoted to her ramblings about the place. Her home life starts to become disrupted, self-care goes out of the window and even her pregnancy can’t compete with her drive to discover the truth.
In between Ava’s story we’re taken back to the historic occupants of the house. In the 1920s it’s Marion who lives there, a newly wed who feels lonely as her husband is away a lot for work. Then twenty years later it’s Constance, the sick little girl who is almost a prisoner, kept inside by her over anxious mother. Is she really the sick one in her family? Or is there some other motivation keeping her life so limited? We never know during these narratives whether what we’re being told is the truth. Are the women seeing events truthfully or skewed through the filter of their own experience? We all the view the world through our own learning, experience and emotional state so we have to question whether Ava’s state of mind is colouring her judgement? Is Marion’s loneliness affecting how she views the house? Could Constance’s illness and solitary existence have left her vulnerable to suggestion? All three could be unreliable narrators and the atmosphere can’t help, a sense of unease that settles over them and us. The darkness and mood seem to follow Ava like a miasma, created by every bad thing that’s happened there. It’s this that envelops her and draws her back again. Some historic events are appalling and I was affected by the scenes of animal abuse, as well as pregnancy trauma that’s also depicted. The scenes detailing pregnancy complications left me needing a few deep breaths and a cup of tea. That just underlines how well written the book is. I swear that as the book went on my blood pressure was climbing along with Ava’s. I was also left with a disoriented feeling sometimes and I think it’s a clever writer who can echo the character’s experiences with the feelings she evokes in the reader.
The supernatural elements were very subtly and gently done, with the mere suggestion of the paranormal being enough. The way I felt while reading proved that this was the type of gothic horror I really enjoy. It felt like a classic horror that creeps up on you woven in with the sort of historical background that really grounds the characters in their time. The author uses the supernatural elements and the terrible story of the dogs, to tell us something about mothers and daughters – daughters being an echo of every woman who has come before them in the family line. It’s also about how the women fit into their world and I loved how the author explored the expectations on women and pressure placed on them by others and society in general. The author’s notes at the end are so interesting too, especially the elements of the book based on a true story. Overall this was a great combination of gothic storytelling and a compelling historical thriller.
Out Now from Thomas and Mercer
Meet the Author
C. D. Major writes suspenseful books inspired by strange true stories. Alongside her thrillers she writes big love stories as Cesca Major, rom coms under the pseudonym Rosie Blake and emotional women’s fiction as Ruby Hummingbird. All information about her books, Book Club Questions and more are over on her website http://www.cescamajor.com. Cesca lives in Berkshire with her husband, son and twin daughters. She can be found on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram and enjoys connecting with readers.
I was bowled over by the first novel in the Annie Jackson series – The Murmurs. I already knew that Michael was an incredible writer, able to bring great compassion and intelligence to his characters while delivering a page turning thriller. The added elements of the paranormal and Scottish folklore really grabbed my attention and fulfilled my craving for all things weird and gothic. Here we find Annie living in her little cottage with a view of the loch, the only place that gives her peace from ‘the murmurs’ that can strike at any time beyond the walls of her home. The murmurs are sibilant whispers letting her know that someone close by is near to death. A vision of a skull appears over the person’s face, followed by a horrible premonition of how they meet their fate. One day, while working a shift in the local coffee shop, Annie can hear the whispers and feel the rising nausea. This vision is for a young local man called Lachlan. Annie sees a terrible car accident and Lachlan’s vehicle wrapped around a tree. Torn between warning him and drawing attention to herself, or walking out and ignoring the vision, Annie chooses a middle ground. She tells him his tyres are bald and he really should change them. Even this course of action backfires as only hours later she is berated by a man who comes to tell her Lachlan is dead and she could have prevented it, but didn’t. The rumours about her powers go into overdrive as people realise Annie is the woman who found the bodies of several murdered women.
Annie can’t win. She’s either dismissed as sinister or even mad or she stays quiet and is blamed for whatever ensues. Desperately wanting to hide from the world, she hopes her little cottage will continue to protect her from the murmurs, but hadn’t banked on how angry locals would be. They break her windows and target her house with red paint. Thankfully, her twin brother Lewis arrives to stay and help just as their adoptive aunt visits, hoping that Annie’s gift might help someone in need. She wants them to look into a missing person case; a young man called Damian has disappeared and she suspects something sinister has happened to him. Damian has had a very complicated past, including ending up in prison on one occasion, but in recent months he had calmed down due to the birth of his son Bodhi. While Annie is keen to explain that she isn’t a medium and can’t find people on command, Lewis thinks they might be able to help. Why not research and interview people like a private investigator? Then during their investigation if anything comes up for Annie they can act on her ideas. What awaits them is a surprising and complex puzzle, that seems to include the dark arts and a woman with the ability to ‘glamour’ others. This time Annie could be in serious danger.
Michael moves us through different timelines and perspectives, from Annie and Lewis’s investigations to new characters called Ben and Sylvia who are pupils at a private school several years earlier. I found their tutor very disturbing, almost grooming both of them into his fascination with the occult. He’s chosen exactly the right students to draw into his web, students who are distanced or estranged from family and potentially vulnerable. His name is Phineas Dance – an awesome name for the villain of the piece! He gives them a reading list including Alastair Crowley and other proponents of the dark arts and they take to his teaching very well, particularly Sylvia who we watch become more obsessive as she matures. Their training involves ritualistic sacrifice, as well as the attainment of wealth and success – using their new powers to ensnare other followers of celebrity and influence. This leaves them both free rein to operate where they live, having local dignitaries in their pocket. Every few years they have a chance of ensnaring the Baobhan Sith, a mythical female deity who can unleash havoc. All they need is a sacrifice and who better than Annie? The author excels at creating a nail-biting game between Sylvia and Annie’s powers, with Sylvia drawing Annie towards her beautiful home and Annie’s murmurs being suppressed then surging again. Annie is confused by this strange sensation, that feels as if her brain is dialling in and out of a radio station! I was mentally begging her to resist Sylvia’s strange abilities and stay with her brother who is in a battle of his own. He’s using detective work to find out about their missing man Damien and unearthing a possible link to a terrible fatal accident that happened when he was only a teenager. Could this incident be behind Damien’s reckless and addictive behaviours? I loved his interactions with the detective working the missing person’s case, Clare is deeply suspicious of the brother and sister team at first. However, when she has an inkling that corruption might be at play she works in tandem with Lewis and they make a formidable team. I even detected a a bit of chemistry between them. This is a fast moving case, especially when Annie is targeted, meaning you won’t be able to put the book down until you know if she can be found before the ritual sacrifice begins.
When you finish this book you’ll feel like you’ve been on a fairground ride! The author has a brilliant way of engaging the reader’s emotions, drawing us into the character’s inner lives in a depth that can be rare in thrillers. It’s his ability to make us root for this brother and sister pairing that drives this novel. I feel so much for Annie, who hasn’t asked for this strange ability she has but has to live with the consequences and it’s a lonely life. She’s misunderstood and shunned by people who really don’t understand how powerless and frightened she feels. It was great to see her with the back up of her brother, who accepts her abilities without question and doesn’t judge. Their bond felt very real and setting aside the paranormal elements of their quest, they did remind of the close bond I have with my own brother. When you add these characters to a great case, full of drama and danger, it makes for a very satisfying reading experience. I absolutely raced to the conclusion, never expecting the outcome and enjoying the twists along the way. It left me hoping for more from Annie and Lewis, with a hope that Annie gets a little bit of respite from the murmurs first.
Published by Orenda Books 12th September 2024
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Meet the Author
Michael Malone is a prize-winning poet and author who was born and brought up in the heart of Burns’ country. He has published over 200 poems in literary magazines throughout the UK, including New Writing Scotland, Poetry Scotland and Markings. Blood Tears, his bestselling debut novel won the Pitlochry Prize from the Scottish Association of Writers. His psychological thriller, A Suitable Lie, was a number-one bestseller, and the critically acclaimed House of Spines, After He Died, In the Absence of Miracles and A Song of Isolation soon followed suit. A former Regional Sales Manager at Faber & Faber, he has also worked as an IFA and a bookseller. Michael lives in Ayr.
This is a very personal review, because when you have a disability it’s impossible to read a collection of stories about bodily difference and it not feel personal. I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 1995, but originally broke my back at 11 years old and after years of pain developed Myofascial Pain Syndrome and disc degeneration. Disability and difference have been part of my life for so long but yet I never feel fully part of that world. That’s because my disabilities are usually invisible and I don’t really belong in either world. I even read this while struggling with my health and finally catching COVID. I’m typing up my review while in bed after a radio frequency denervation, where a heated needle is guided towards the compressed nerves and burns them to disrupt the pain messages that refer nerve pain to my legs and lower abdomen. All this goes on behind closed doors because I’m simply unable to get up and out. Then when I can go out, I appear to have very little wrong with me unless I’m using my stick or a crutch. I’m doing what’s called ‘passing’ – able to look like everyone else while having disabilities. So it’s hard to put across how moved I was by this collection portraying ‘otherness’ and how able-bodied people respond to it. Using mythology, fairy tales and a touch of Shakespeare, Lottie Mills has managed to put across so much about life with a disability and what happens when it brushes up against an able-bodied society that’s considered the norm. However, in her world these disabilities become abilities, sometimes magical ones.
The first story in the collection introduces us to a magical island where Cal and his daughter have a beautiful life of warm sand, sea and a night sky glittering with stars. He tells her stories about bear people and she asks him if they are bear people? Yes they are he says, although her mother wasn’t. She was from a human world that’s about to clash disastrously with theirs. In the human world, there’s so much that Cal can’t do because it isn’t set up like their island. In the human world Cal becomes disabled. We then see what happens when human agencies come up against their little family with disastrous consequences. Instead of concentrating on what he can do, they look at him through the prism of their own abilities and only the things he can’t do. How can he possibly look after his daughter properly when he’s so disadvantaged? Mills takes disability theory here and applied it to her character’s lives, which judging by the name Cal (Caliban) come from the type of magical island Shakespeare describes in The Tempest. Caliban has been more recently portrayed in productions of the play as a black man, a slave, or an asylum seeker rather than a monster. Mills makes the point that Caliban is only a monster when we make him one. The original model of disability is a medical one that assumes there is one ideal healthy body and anything that differs from that is wrong and needs to be fixed. When used in a social context it tells you that the things you can’t do in the world are down to your difference from the norm. However, the social model tells us that it is the way the world is set up that creates the disability. For example if all buildings eradicated stairs, creating ramps and lifts within the normal building model, the environment becomes accessible to all. If Cal is viewed in his own environment, he is capable of looking after his daughter. I was desperate for them to be reunited and I also felt a personal yearning to be part of Cal’s world. This fairy tale explains that while agencies like social services and the NHS might think they are doing the right thing for someone, there is often a better solution. That solution champions individuality and concentrates on what the person can do, rather than what they can’t.
In another story we meet a young disabled woman who craves the perfect pain- free body, something I could definitely identify with right now. However, when her wish is granted she finds it difficult to let go of her disabled identity. This was a fascinating exploration of how disability affects the person psychologically. If a disability is innate then it’s the only body that person has ever known. They know the world’s expectations of that body, their own perception of what they might achieve within that body and how able-bodied people perceive them. If the disability is acquired it can be a long and painful process to come to an acceptance of your new body. You must grieve the body you have lost, as well as all the things you expected to do with that body. I have heard many friends tell me that while they’d happily give up chronic pain or a particular aspect of their disability, they wouldn’t want to go through a reverse change and be able-bodied again. There is even a fear of becoming able-bodied again, with all the expectations that places on a person. This story perfectly encapsulates that fight within the self and how far our disabilities are assimilated into our idea of who we are. I loved Lottie’s use of horror and settings where disability has often found a home such as the circus or fairground. Freak shows were popular in the 19th Century, in both the UK and USA, with different bodies placed on show for entertainment and wonder. In fact Coney Island in New York was a hugely successful venue for such shows, where businessmen and entertainers like Barnum were making money from the display of people with differences and disabilities. It certainly wasn’t the wonderful musical extravaganza portrayed in The Greatest Showman. However, it was a place where someone with a disability could make their own money, live in a community where difference was appreciated and accommodated and achieve a level of fame. She lets us know that these issues are complex and look very different from person to person.
There is a beauty in this world of ‘otherness’ and it’s a world made up of an incredible mix of ingredients. Every person with a disability is different so the variety of experience is endless and hybrid bodies, unusual pairings/families and queer love thrives here. Lottie has found a way of balancing how the world sees us and how we see ourselves. She has used magic realism and alternative communities to show the strength there is in accepting disability and making a life with it, rather than constantly fighting to change yourself and remain in the able-bodied world. What was the most interesting thing to me was her understanding of how these issues affect the world of writing and how there are accepted narrative tropes around disability. I studied for a PhD, sadly never completed, where I was looking at how disability is portrayed in autobiography and memoir and whether this was driven by an author’s internalisation of society’s expectations or whether the publishing industry is biased towards narratives that are acceptable to able-bodied readers and they know will sell widely. The public like people who battle against their disability and illness, preferring words like ‘fight’, ‘overcome’ and ‘survive’. The accepted narrative trope is that of a journey from the dark days of diagnosis towards the rehabilitation and a triumphant ending of cure or a successful life, despite the disability. Often people with disabilities read these narratives and feel inadequate for struggling, for not achieving a similar level of ability and success. Mainly they don’t feel represented. Here Lottie shows us these stereotypes and gives us something different – individuality, community and love. Her narratives don’t follow the accepted tropes, instead focusing on acceptance, owning a disability and living with it in a way that works for the character rather than an able-bodied reader. Lottie’s writing manages to latch onto the reader and not let go, but for me it was her refusal to conform and instead confront people’s perceptions of disability. I’m hopeful for much more from this talented writer and that publishers are starting to see the value of individual and adventurous disability narratives that truly represent such a vibrant and varied community.
Published by Oneworld Publications May 2024.
Meet the Author
Lottie Mills was born in Hampshire and grew up in West Sussex, Hertfordshire, and Essex. She studied English at Newnham College, Cambridge, and contributed to Varsity and The Mays during her time there. In 2020, she won the BBC Young Writers’ Award for her short story ‘The Changeling’, having been previously shortlisted in 2018. Her work has been broadcast on BBC Radio 1 and BBC Radio 4, and she has appeared on programmes including Look East, Life Hacks, and Woman’s Hour to discuss her writing. Monstrum is her debut book.
‘She searches for ways to stop feeling so lonely you fear your brain will melt and your heart will stop and your skin will never be touched again. She searches for ways to make herself feel better. The online forum has been a lifeline. A lifesaver. She can chat to counsellors when she needs to or other women who struggle with similar issues. Every week she receives a piece of advice to help her on the road to recovery or, as she calls it, the road to normality. The path to living a life.’
Blue makes a decision to deal with her unresolved grief and trauma with a residential course she sees advertised when she’s at a low ebb. At Hope Marsh House participants are offered counselling, art therapy and meditation with married couple Molly and Joshua Park. Blue has been struggling for a long time, culminating in the death of her mother with whom she had an uneasy relationship. However her grief journey begins with the loss of her stepfather Devlin, a rotund man with a fondness for kaftans and a talent with tarot. His own skills are based in clever observation, carefully worded open questions and more than average perception, but in Blue he recognises something he isn’t. A lonely child with strong, natural,psychic abilities. Prior to meeting Devlin, Blue’s mother has managed a rather haphazard upbringing at best with choices for Blue that are based in her own problems and inadequacies rather than what’s best for her child. Blue has been home-schooled but any learning was provided by magazines, television and whatever books Blue could lay her hands on. As a result she had no friends and was thought of as weird by the kids nearby. Her mother is equally isolated, not helped by the fact they move constantly. What exactly are they running from? So, Devlin’s attention is welcomed by both mother and daughter. Losing him to a heart attack was devastating and Blue became parent to her heartbroken mother, taking responsibility for her mum’s worsening mental health, the family’s income and single-handedly running Devlin’s mediumship business. Maybe it will take a place like Hope Marsh House to deal with the lonely and exhausting rut Blue finds herself in? It will be kill or cure….
‘And how long have you had your … talents?’ he said. Blue didn’t know what to say. Was hitting a saucepan with a wooden spoon a talent? Was babysitting a toddler in a dry bath whilst her mother cried herself to sleep a talent? She could wash her own clothes in the steel kitchen sink, she could heat soup and tins of beans, she could sing all the words to ‘May the Circle Be Open’. Is this what the strange man meant? She was five years old. She didn’t know.’
The author tells Blue’s story using different timelines: one gives us the present and focuses in on the retreat at Marsh House, while the others are in flashbacks to Blue’s life before her trip and further back in vignettes of her childhood. The flashbacks give us the building blocks of Blue’s personality and the strange abilities she has. She is a little girl simply longing for love and care, we can see this from the way she blossoms if praised by Devlin. Even more than that, the most powerful thing Devlin does is seemingly very simple – when Blue comes off stage, Devlin simply asks ‘are you ok, lass’? These four words mean more to her than anything else because they bypass the person she is on stage and the money her gift can make them and instead asks how she is. He knows and acknowledges what this gift costs her and how arduous a whole show can be, but mainly it’s just a dad checking in on his daughter. It means a lot to Blue, who has probably never been asked if she’s ok before. No one has ever cared enough. It is his care of her that she misses so deeply. I wondered if there were elements of personality disorder. Does Blue know who she is? When Devlin lives with them she’s at her happiest, but I was confused about her relationship with the other two children who live with them – Bodhi and the baby. They seem to be there, but she rarely relates to them. In fact she actively seems to avoid them and almost looks past them if they appear in her eye line.
Other short sections of the book include a story about a loving married couple who haven’t been able to have children, but look after a little girl who lives in a nearby flat with her elder brother. Unfortunately he is a drug addict and the couple, James and Marie, provide that stable family unit for Jessica. They dread something happening to Jessica’s brother because she could then be taken away from them. I knew that this couple related to Marsh House in some way, but I wasn’t sure how. Why does Blue keep hearing the same three girls names, Jessica, Eleanor and Lauren? Who is the strange long haired girl that appears in Sabrina’s room and opens the door when they’re not there. When she appears Blue starts to feel sick and a feeling of dread comes over her, a couple of times she comes close to passing out. The apparitions also have a way of spoiling her food, making it smell like rotten eggs or rubbish bins. They want to be noticed, but what are they trying to tell her?
The retreat itself is disturbed by a storm and the nearby river bursting it’s banks, threatening the house itself. Instead of the therapy they’re supposed to be receiving Blue and the other able bodied participant Sabina, help Mr Park with unblocking debris from the bridge to help the river flow on it’s normal path. The only other resident is Milton, an older man who uses a wheelchair and seems weakened by a lung disease that causes coughing fits. He’s been to the retreat several times, but seems incredibly grumpy with Molly and her husband. He also avoids any of the activities and even rebuffs Molly’s late night cocoa ritual. Is he just one of life’s misanthropes or is there more going on? Obviously, as a therapist, it’s Molly I’m fascinated with. I’ve been through a major bereavement and have run courses like the ones Molly advocates using a combination of meditation and group therapy using creative writing and art. I found her manner with the participants overwhelming at times. Even before the flood interrupted the normal flow of things there was a boundary issue that I couldn’t put my finger on. As time went on I realised the couple had no children, so who is the little girl in the picture that’s hidden in their own private sitting room? Who is the girl that Blue can see, if no children have lived there? Molly seems to mother her guests. It’s difficult to create clear boundaries when working in your own home and especially when participants are also eating with you and staying overnight. However, there’s something about the way Molly nurtures her clients that feels off. There’s a power imbalance at play, almost as if she is the parent and they are children. It’s this element in her personality and the care she gives that Milton seems to resist or even reject outright. Blue is particularly susceptible to her methods, because she has never had a nurturing mother figure. I felt protective towards Blue (my own maternal instinct at play) and my instinct was telling me she needed to keep her wits about her. The author created a sense of impending doom and as the worst of the storm hit it felt like a warning.
I don’t want to reveal any more, because I think the the story unfolds at the right pace and the truths are revealed slowly. The revelations come in both timelines, as Blue unearths the truths about her mother Bridget by looking through archived newspapers in the library. The secrets come out as if they’ve always been there in Blue’s mind, she just needed something to unlock the door. There will be moments at Hope Marsh House where you wonder what’s going on, placing you in exactly the same position as our main characters. The reader discovers the answers when the characters do so we feel their disorientation, confusion and fear. There were one or two moments that were genuinely terrifying! I enjoyed the growing bond between the three guests at Marsh House, something that Blue has never had before and exactly what she needs. I stayed up late to get to the end and I wasn’t disappointed, although it did lead to some disturbing dreams that night. This was a really great read with a perfect balance between psychological thriller and haunting, gothic tale.
Published Jan 18th by RAVEN Books
Meet the Author
Rebecca lives in the West Country with her family and their cat. She has written two best-selling novels under the name Rebecca Tinnelly: Never Go There and Don’t Say A Word, both published with Hodder.
‘She searches for ways to stop feeling so lonely you fear your brain will melt and your heart will stop and your skin will never be touched again. She searches for ways to make herself feel better. The online forum has been a lifeline. A lifesaver. She can chat to counsellors when she needs to or other women who struggle with similar issues. Every week she receives a piece of advice to help her on the road to recovery or, as she calls it, the road to normality. The path to living a life.’
Blue makes a decision to deal with her unresolved grief and trauma with a residential course she sees advertised when she’s at a low ebb. At Hope Marsh House participants are offered counselling, art therapy and meditation with married couple Molly and Joshua Park. Blue has been struggling for a long time, culminating in the death of her mother with whom she had an uneasy relationship. However her grief journey begins with the loss of her stepfather Devlin, a rotund man with a fondness for kaftans and a talent with tarot. His own skills are based in clever observation, carefully worded open questions and more than average perception, but in Blue he recognises something he isn’t. A child with strong psychic abilities. Prior to meeting Devlin, Blue’s mother has managed a rather haphazard upbringing at best, making choices for Blue that are based in her own problems and inadequacies rather than what’s best for her child. Blue has been home-schooled but any learning was provided by magazines, television and whatever books Blue could lay her hands on. As a result she had no friends and was thought of as weird by the kids nearby. Her mother is equally isolated, not helped by the fact they move constantly. What exactly are they running from? So, Devlin’s attention is welcomed by both mother and daughter. Losing him to a heart attack was devastating and Blue became parent to her heartbroken mother, taking responsibility for her mum’s worsening mental health, the family’s income and single-handedly running Devlin’s mediumship business. Maybe it will take a place like Hope Marsh House to deal with the lonely and exhausting rut Blue finds herself in? It will be kill or cure….
‘And how long have you had your … talents?’ he said. Blue didn’t know what to say. Was hitting a saucepan with a wooden spoon a talent? Was babysitting a toddler in a dry bath whilst her mother cried herself to sleep a talent? She could wash her own clothes in the steel kitchen sink, she could heat soup and tins of beans, she could sing all the words to ‘May the Circle Be Open’. Is this what the strange man meant? She was five years old. She didn’t know.’
The author tells Blue’s story using different timelines: one gives us the present and focuses in on the retreat at Hope Marsh House, while the others are flashbacks to Blue’s life before her trip and further back in vignettes of her childhood. The flashbacks give us the building blocks of Blue’s personality and those strange abilities she has. She is a little girl simply longing for love and care, we can see this from the way she blossoms if praised by Devlin. The most powerful thing Devlin does is seemingly very simple – when Blue comes off stage, Devlin simply asks ‘are you ok, lass’? These four words mean more to her than anything else because they bypass the person she is on stage and the money her gift can make for the family and instead asks how she is. He knows and acknowledges what this gift costs her and how arduous a whole show can be, but mainly it’s just a dad checking in on his daughter. It means a lot to Blue, who has probably never been asked if she’s ok before. No one has ever cared enough. It is his care of her that she misses so deeply. I wondered if there were elements of a personality disorder in Blue. Does she even know who she is? When Devlin lives with them she’s at her happiest, but I was confused about her relationship with the other two children who live with them – Bodhi and the baby. They seem to be there most of the time, but she rarely relates to them. In fact she actively seems to avoid them and almost looks past them if they appear in her eye line.
Other short sections of the book include a story about a loving married couple who haven’t been able to have children, but look after a little girl who lives in a nearby flat with her elder brother. Unfortunately he is a drug addict and the couple, James and Marie, provide that stable family unit for Jessica. They dread something happening to Jessica’s brother because then she could be taken away from them. I knew that this couple related to Hope Marsh House in some way, but I wasn’t sure how. Why does Blue keep hearing the same three girls names, Jessica, Eleanor and Lauren? Who is the strange long haired girl that appears in Sabrina’s room and opens the door when they’re not there. When she appears Blue starts to feel sick and a feeling of dread comes over her, a couple of times she comes close to passing out. The apparitions also have a way of spoiling her food, making it smell like rotten eggs or rubbish bins. This little girl wants to be noticed, but what is she trying to tell her?
The retreat itself is disturbed by a storm and the nearby river bursting it’s banks, threatening the house itself. Instead of the therapy they’re supposed to be receiving Blue and the other able bodied participant Sabina, help Mr Park unblock debris from the bridge to help the river flow on it’s normal path. The only other resident is Milton, an older man who uses a wheelchair and seems weakened by a lung disease that causes coughing fits. He’s been to the retreat several times, but seems incredibly grumpy with Molly and her husband. He also avoids any of the activities and even rebuffs Molly’s late night cocoa ritual. Is he just one of life’s misanthropes or is there more going on? Obviously, as a therapist, it’s Molly I’m fascinated with. I’ve been through a major bereavement and have run courses like the ones Molly advocates using a combination of meditation and group therapy with creative writing and art. I found her manner with the participants overwhelming at times. Even before the flood interrupted the normal flow of things there was a boundary issue that I couldn’t put my finger on. As time went on I realised the couple had no children, so who is the little girl in the picture that’s hidden in their own private sitting room? Who is the girl that Blue can see, if no children have lived there? Molly seems to mother her guests. It’s difficult to create clear boundaries when working in your own home, especially when participants are also eating with you and staying overnight. However, there’s something about the way Molly nurtures her clients that feels ‘off’. There’s a power imbalance at play, almost as if she is the parent and they are children. It’s this element in her personality and the care she gives that Milton seems to resist or even reject outright. Blue is particularly susceptible to her methods, because she has never had a nurturing mother figure. I felt protective towards Blue, my own maternal instinct was at play and my it was telling me she needed to keep her wits about her. The author created a sense of impending doom and as the worst of the storm hit it felt like a warning.
I don’t want to reveal any more, because I think the the story unfolds at the right pace and the truths are revealed slowly. The revelations come in both timelines, as Blue unearths the truths about her mother Bridget by looking through archived newspapers in the library. The secrets come out as if they’ve always been there in Blue’s mind, she just needed something to unlock the door. There will be moments at Hope Marsh House where you wonder what’s going on, placing you in exactly the same position as our main characters. The reader discovers the answers when the characters do so we feel their disorientation, confusion and fear. There were one or two moments that were genuinely terrifying! I enjoyed the growing bond between the three guests at Hope Marsh House, something that Blue has never had before and exactly what she needs. I stayed up late to get to the end and I wasn’t disappointed, although it did lead to some disturbing dreams that night. This was a really great read with a perfect balance between psychological thriller and haunting, gothic tale.
It by Stephen King. There are a lot of problems with this book, mostly the fact that his villain, Pennywise the Clown, is way more terrifying than the ‘It’ eventually encountered by the gang underground. I don’t think reading It started my clown phobia, but reading it as an impressionable teen certainly didn’t help. Now I’m terrified of anything that doesn’t show it’s real face, so masks, hoods, and make up always send a shiver up my spine. The scariest scene has to be when little Georgie Denborough, in his yellow Macintosh and hat, goes outside in the rain to play with his paper boat. The boat slips into the gutter and is washed into the storm drain. As Georgie approaches the drain he can see red tufted hair and floating balloons. They float, says Pennywise the clown. This clown has teeth and as Georgie reaches into the drain for a balloon he loses his arm. They all float down here.
The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. This is a distinctly odd book, with no real answers or clarity about what is happening at Bly. Are there real ghosts at the house with malicious intent? Is it the children, Flora and Miles, who are possessed by demons or just evil and manipulative towards their governess? Is the governess mad, hallucinating the ghosts of Bly’s former employees and terrifying the children? I definitely err on the side of the children being the problem, they are far too knowing and precocious for their years. It may be that the children have been affected by their time with previous employees Peter Quint and the last governess. Whichever it is the two children make me shiver and the final scene where Peter Quint appears at the window to the governess is doubly scary because we don’t know if they can both see him, or just the governess. As Miles falls down dead I wondered whether their aim to send the governess mad has worked and backfired spectacularly. Henry James plays with the Victorian ideal of childhood innocence and that’s what makes it so creepy, the thought that we might be in danger from those we consider vulnerable and incapable of evil is incredibly subversive.
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. Wuthering Heights is a story narrated by the family servant Nelly Dean, as told to a visitor to the farm, one of Heathcliff’s new tenants called Mr Lockwood. The weather worsens dramatically during his visit and as night falls it is clear that it’s unsafe to travel on horseback and he must stay. Heathcliff begrudgingly gives Lockwood a bed for the night, an old oak bed set under a window that overlooks the Moors. He wakes in the night, disoriented and disturbed by a tapping at the window. It is merely a branch and he concludes that he has been dreaming, influenced by Nelly’s tragic story of Catherine Earnshaw. He cannot unfasten the window, then resorts to breaking the glass to grasp the branch. The moment he reaches out to grab the branch but instead grabs an ‘ice-cold hand’ never fails to lift the hairs on the back of your neck. As he sees her white little face through the window he tries to pull his hand away but she won’t let go, begging him to let her in as she has lost her way on the moor. His solution is to grind the child’s wrist across the broken glass of the window until blood runs onto the bedclothes. This scene ensured that for my whole childhood I closed the curtains of any room I was in as soon as it was dark.
The Watchers by A.M. Shine. There’s so much to love in A.M.Shine’s debut novel, but one scene stands out for me, leaving me unsettled and unable to sleep. Set in rural Ireland, our heroine Mina is stranded in the middle of nowhere after her car breaks down as she does a strange favour for a friend. As sets off on a walk towards civilisation, she takes a wrong turn and ends up in the woods. The trees seem never ending and as afternoon starts to move towards dusk she has a strange sense of being watched. An unusual screeching noise unnerves her as she reaches a clearing and sees a woman shouting, urging Mina to run to a concrete bunker. As the door slams behind her, the building is besieged by screams. Mina finds herself in a room with a wall of glass, and an electric light that activates at nightfall, when the Watchers come above ground. These creatures emerge to observe their captive humans and terrible things will happen to anyone who doesn’t reach the bunker in time. This opening scene is so tense that when she reaches safety there’s a moment of relief, but only a moment. As the light comes on we realise that the glass window is full of creatures, staring in at their prey. I think the fact we never fully see a watcher makes it scarier as our imagination fills in the blanks. There is a twist to the ending that I can’t reveal, but I assure you it’s just as terrifying.
Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. I loved this brilliant horror novel that explores colonialism, feminism and eugenics as well as being downright scary. Noemi is a guest at High Place, wanting to spend time with her friend Catalina who has married into the wealthy Doyle family. Yet all is not well in the Doyle household. Noemi finds her time with her friend is very tightly controlled because Catalina has succumbed to a mystery illness. The family patriarch spouts his vile views on race and eugenics at the dinner table and what is going on with the mushroom wallpaper? It was Noemi’s strange dreams that I found most terrifying: she wanders the house covered with spores, has deeply sexual encounters with her friend’s husband and is haunted by a woman with a golden glow for a face who tries to communicate despite not having a mouth. However, nothing is more terrifying than coming face to face with the reality of the patriarch’s existence. Just as Noemi dreamed of the house becoming a mass of sores, his body is rotting to the touch. We are faced with blood, pus, bile and many other grotesque images, but even worse for Noemi there’s a threat of sexual violence culminating in the sort of kiss she really didn’t want. This made me physically retch! Oh, and you’ll be put off mushrooms for a little while.
Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier. I would argue that Daphne Du Maurier’s classic thriller is a ghost story, in fact in some ways both the women married to Maxim De Winter are haunting his home Manderley. Rebecca is dead, killed in a sailing accident, but her presence is still very much alive in the mansion: the west wing upstairs is off limits, still set up as her bedroom complete with her nightclothes laid out on the bed; her correspondence and address book is still out on her desk in the morning room with a huge ‘R’ on the cover; she even inhabits the cottage on the beach that her dog Jasper escapes whenever he can. The new Mrs De Winter is lost in this grand stately home and simply wanders to whichever room the servants direct her, servants who are still following the Rebecca’s routine. She doesn’t even have a name. However, the scariest part of Manderley is Rebecca’s servant Mrs Danvers installed as housekeeper after the to move to Maxim’s Cornish home. Described as wearing a long black dress, with gaunt features and deep set eyes that made her look like a skull she seems to slip between room silently, always seeing precisely the moments that the young Mrs De Winter would rather she didn’t. She encourages her new mistress to hold a costume ball like the old days and as an extra favour she suggests that she copies a costume from an ancestral painting on the stairs, not mentioning that Rebecca wore the same costume at the last ball. When Maxim first glimpses his wife on the stairs he thinks for a dreadful moment it is his dead wife and he is unnecessarily harsh. As she flees to the banned West Wing, Mrs Danvers torments her with Rebecca’s flimsy nightwear and the details of their routine. Her voice is hypnotic as she urges her new mistress to open the window to lean out for some air. The suspense as she tells her to jump, that she’s no use, she’s not loved and Maxim will always love Rebecca. A well timed shout and flare from a ship in distress are the only things that save her. This is the moment we know what this terrifyingly obsessed woman is capable of. Is Rebecca working through her, was she in love with her mistress, or was she simple unable to accept her death? Either way she is deadly dangerous and very creepy indeed.
Shining by Stephen King. We’re back to King now, the ultimate horror writer and one of my favourite novels in his back catalogue. Everything about this book is creepy, from the wasp’s nest to the twins in the corridor, but there’s one scene that puts the fear into me and that’s the woman in room 217. Jack Torrance has been slowly sinking into his alcoholism ever since his family arrived at The Overlook Hotel and his son Danny has been exploring the place, often unchecked since they’re so isolated they know there’s no one else around. The problem is that Danny has the ability to see things his parents can’t and while they’re sure no people are around, they can’t say the same about dead people. In a scene that’s written so well I can feel Danny’s terror, he makes his way into room 217 and notices the curtain drawn around the bathtub. As he pulls the curtain back, hoping his parents have left a surprise for him, he is horrified to see the grey, lifeless flesh of a woman. Except she’s not so lifeless. As Danny desperately tries to exit the room he hears the sound of her body slipping and sucking over the side of the bath. Her squelching footsteps as she chases him. Obviously King writes so much better than me, so when I first read this scene my heart was hammering in my chest so hard! I felt sick. Ever since, if I enter a bathroom and the shower curtain is pulled across my mind immediately goes back to this scene and I do feel a little unnerved.
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley ‘It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.’ The various film adaptations of Frankenstein rarely do justice to the true horror of Mary Shelley’s words. I must admit that the 1990’s Kenneth Branagh version made me vomit, quite literally, into my popcorn bucket! Not a great look for a date, but there we are. That was about the way the creature slipped out of the bath of fluid he’d been kept it. It’s hard to describe but I have a horrible revulsion towards snotty egg whites and this was like a bath full of them and a naked Robert de Niro was sliding about in them like Bambi on a frozen pond. The sound was enough to induce retching and I’ve never been able to watch it without that reaction. The original words though strike fear into me, the sheer horror of what he’s created and the realisation that he’s concentrated all his efforts into achieving life, without once thinking what would happen next. The dull yellow eye feels reptilian to me and that fear of what exactly this creature is swirls around the mind.
Changeling by Matt Wesolowski. This book really did get under my skin, possibly not helped by reading it in an unfamiliar and remote house where we were on holiday, not a million miles away from the forest in question. This starts as a missing child case, when Sorrel Marsden stops his car in a lay-by on the Wentshire Forest Pass on the Welsh Borders. As he investigates under the bonnet, hoping to find the cause of a strange knocking noise he has heard in the engine, he leaves son Alfie in his car seat. Minutes later, when he closes the bonnet, he glances up to see Alfie and finds him gone. He is never found. Scott King fronts a true crime podcast, a new one explored in each book of Wesolowski’s Six Stories series. Usually, the cases that Scott explores have a supernatural element and that’s definitely he case here, with the forest seemingly a hot spot for unusual unexplained noises, glitches in machinery and possible fairy sightings. However, room is also left for a more human explanation and it was the human aspects that really chilled here. A trainee teacher and her journals and reports form part of his investigation and her research into Child A takes on a sinister significance. She records a time when she was supervising the child alone and his lack of communication is a little unnerving. Then she starts to hear noises, strange knockings that she assumes are Child A banging under the desk. However, he isn’t moving. Then she hears muttering, as if he is talking under his breath to someone or taking instructions. Yet he is utterly still, eyes completely blank as if he has tuned out or is tuned in to something else. This scene did make me shiver. I didn’t know what scared me more: a child possessed or used as a conduit for something supernatural or a child that’s rather too knowing, deliberately setting out to unnerve their teacher.
The Ghost Woods by C.J. Cooke. We’re back in the gothic territory of monstrous births in this novel from C.J. Cooke and I loved the strange mix of the horrors of nature with the supernatural. In a room where he keeps his favourite specimens, Mr Whitlock has a wasp that’s been taken over by a fungus. The life cycle starts when the creature breathes in the spores, but then they slowly grow inside the insect until it bursts out of their body. It feels like there may be parallels here, especially for resident Mabel who is expecting a ghost baby. When our heroine Pearl arrives, this mini example of a parasitic fungus is overshadowed by the incredible fungal takeover in the west wing. Despite being closed off, she finds spores growing and multiplying on the outer stairs. Will it eventually take over the whole of Lichen Hall? There is a creeping sense of dread about the girl’s pregnancies because they do seem monstrous in their movements as seeing a tiny feet stretch out the skin of their abdomens. Mabel’s boy is beautiful, but its not long before she notices the strange lights appearing from under his skin. What do they signify? Is this the legacy of the ghosts? The atmosphere feels isolated and wild, but weirdly suffocating and claustrophobic at the same time. Everything builds slowly, keeping you on edge, but for sheer heart stopping terror it’s when walking outside in the woods that a shadowy figure awaits. I realised I was holding my breath when one of the girls fell trying to escape this creature and it grabbed her leg. In the seconds before she kicked it away she felt it’s purpose very clearly, a terrible intention to get ‘inside’ her skin.
NewSpooky Recommendations
New releases to check out are Alix E. Harrow’s new novel Starling House from Tor Books out on November 1st and The Haunting in the Arctic by C.J.Cooke which is out now from Harper Collins.
The Lotus Readers 