BOOK REVIEWS

Cardiff, by the Sea: Four Novellas of Suspense by Joyce Carol Oates

As I highly rate Joyce Carol Oates I was quite looking forward to Cardiff, by the Sea, a collection of four novellas ‘of suspense’. While I have only read a few of Oates’ works Patricide, a novella of hers, is a favourite of mine. The novellas collected in Cardiff, by the Sea have more in common with Oates’ The Pursuit as they are not only just as depressing but they are also written in a similar ‘stop and start’ type of prose. We have staccato sentences that often elide their subjects (such as “Chewing, trying to swallow but can’t.” or “Seeing the apprehension in the child’s face.”). While this style worked in the first novella, the longest in the collection, it felt a bit repetitive and overall less convincing in the following ones. In the first one we follow a deeply traumatised young woman and because of this the prose perfectly conveyed her ‘disturbed’ psyche. There were scenes where Oates’ choppy prose worked well, especially in terms of visuals and pacing: “Mia felt a stab of excitement. Following the flashlight beam. Shining light on ugly gouged tire tracks. Broken and shredded trees.”. As I’ve said however I do wish that this collection could have showcased Oates’ impressive stylistic range.
These novellas also share many other similarities outside of the way the are written. They feature women who are traumatised, abused, sexually assaulted, and/or gaslighted/manipulated. All of the male characters in these novellas are awful human being. They are pedophiles, rapists, murders, opportunists….the lists goes on. The women in these stories lack agency. There are one or two incidents that suggest otherwise but throughout the course of their narratives they are very much confined to the role of victims.

‘Cardiff, by the Sea’: 4 stars
As I’ve said the best story in this collection is the very first one: ‘Cardiff, by the Sea’. This novella was creepy and atmospheric. We follow Clare a woman who receives a call informing her that her grandmother has died…except that Clare has never met or know of her having been raised by adoptive parents. When she visits her newfound ‘blood relatives’ in Cardiff she becomes increasingly obsessed with the death of her birth parents. She stays with her two great-aunts, who very much reminded me of April Spink and Miriam Forcible from Coraline (except they are far more sinister). They are perpetually arguing and interrupting one another. Perhaps their creepiness is due to Clare’s susceptible state of mind, perhaps not. Clare’s uncle also lives with them and soon enough Clare becomes convinced that he played some sort of role in her family’s demise.
This story is pure Gothic. Unease reigns supreme. Clare’s fragmented and unreliable memories contribute to this unsettling atmosphere. Oates’ prose her works really well as it reflects Clare’s psyche. Her trauma and shock definitely give her an alienated view of things. If you enjoy Shirley Jackson’s work or macabre stories such as the ones penned by Mariana Enríquez chances are you will appreciate this novella which is equal parts suspenseful and disturbing.

‘Miao Dao’: 3 stars
This story had potential. I mean: cats killing pervy men? I’m sold. We follow Mia who has just turned thirteen. Her father recently separated from her mother and she now rarely sees him. Her male classmates begin to harass her and her female peers are not all that supportive (if anything they perceive as either a loser or a potential ‘threat’). As Mia is ‘shamed’ for body she begins to feel deeply alienated. Mia finds momentary solace when she is among a group of feral cats that has taken residence in her neighbourhood.
When her mother gets together with a seemingly ‘good’ guy things take a turn for the worse. Mia ends up taking in a kitten, whom she names Miao Dao, and weird things start happening.
This story was kind of miserable. Even more so that ‘Cardiff, by the Sea’ as it focuses on sexual abuse. It also reminded me of my own adolescent, a period of my life I never wish to relive again. The ‘leering’, the comments, the physical harassment. The way all of these make the victim feel ashamed and embarrassed (as she perceives herself guilty since it is her body that is making these boys and men act this way). So, given all the horrible things that happen to Mia, I was hoping for the story to present us with a satisfying revenge storyline…and it kind of doesn’t. The ‘cat’ element was definitely underused, and I think that the story would have benefitted from venturing more into the paranormal. Still, the ending does kind of make up for some of my initial frustration towards this story.

‘Phantomwise: 1972’ : 2 ½ stars
This seemed a rehash of the previous two stories. We have a nondescript young woman—who similarly to Clare and Mia is mostly defined by the fact that she is being ill-treated/abused as opposed to having a discernible personality. The story follows a student who becomes involved with a professor (yes, this is that kind of story). As things sour between the two of them, the young woman becomes close to an older man who likes to talk about Lewis Carroll and his ‘Alice’. This isn’t a gripping or even suspenseful tale. Oates doesn’t really subvert this tired female student/male professor dynamic, if anything she goes full on misery porn. Misery and more misery. Women are helpless and men are predators. Great stuff.

‘The Surviving Child’ : 2 ½ stars
This last novella seemed a mix between Rebecca and Verity. We follow the new wife of a man whose previous wife not only committed suicide but she killed their daughter too. She spared the son and the new wife wonders what could have driven her to do so. The prose is once again full of Yoda-like sentences which didn’t really add anything to my reading experience. Kind of predictable but not as miserable as the previous novella.

With the exception of the titular novella I didn’t particularly care for stories in this collection. Oates can certainly write but her style here could have been more varied. Her female characters are passive, even pathetic at times, and I found myself wanting these stories to be more subversive.

MY RATING: 3 out of 5 stars

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These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever

“They could only stitch themselves back together if they did something irreversible.”

Heavenly Creatures by way of Patricia Highsmith, plus a sprinkle of Like Minds, and with the kind of teenage morbidity one could find in Hangsaman or Stoker.

Adroit and gripping, These Violent Delights is a superlative debut novel. Being the self-proclaimed connoisseur of academia fiction, I was drawn by the comparisons to The Secret History and I was amazed to discover that unlike other releases (not naming any names) These Violent Delights definitely had some TSH vibes. But whereas most academia books focus on a ‘clique’, Micah Nemerever’s novel is very much centred on the obsessive relationship between two seventeen-year olds.
If you’ve read or watched anything that revolves around a toxic relationship, you know what to expect from These Violent Delights. The prologue itself reveals to us that all will not be well for these two boys, and that at some point will embark on a path of no return.

“He couldn’t remember ever being the person he’d decided to become.”

The narrative takes us back to their first meeting. Paul, our protagonist, is a university freshman in Pittsburgh during the early 1970s. His father has recently committed suicide and his mother has yet to recover. Paul suffers from an almost debilitating insecurity, and shows a propensity for virulent self-recriminations. His inward-looking nature brings him no joy, as his mind is often consumed by his many ‘shortcomings’, and those of others. He feels misunderstood by his working-class family, and without his father, his grandfather, a man whose good-natured attempts to connect with Paul inevitably miss the mark, has become his closest male figure. His family fails to accept that Paul isn’t the type to ‘loosen’ up with his peers or have ‘fun’ with some girl.
When a discussion on experimental ethics in class gets Paul hot under the collar, Julian Fromme comes to his defence. On the surface Julian is the antithesis of Paul: he comes from wealth, he’s self-assured, easy-going, and charismatic. Yet, Paul is enthralled by him, especially when he realises that Julian carries within him a darkness not unlike his own. Their mutual understanding and their interest in one another results in instantaneous connection. They can have erudite talks, challenging each other’s stance on subjects related to ethics and morals, and revel in the superiority they feel towards their classmates. Within hours of their meeting their bond has solidified, becoming something impenetrable to outsiders. It soon becomes apparent that neither of them is in control in their relationship, and things are further complicated when their platonic friendship gives way to a more sexual one.
Their symbiotic bond is of concern to others (to be queer—in both senses—is no walk in the park, especially in the 70s), and attempts are made to separate the two. But Paul and Julian are determined to stay together, and more than once they tell each other that the idea of life without the other would be unbearable.

“[H]e wasn’t afraid anymore. After a lifetime of yearning and trying not to yearn, he imagined the relief of surrendering.”

Even if we suspect that Paul and Julian’s intoxicating liaison will have internecine consequences, we are desperate for a moment of reprieve. But Nemerever’s narrative does not let up, not once. Readers will read with increasing anxiety as Paul and Julian embark on an ‘irreversible’ path, alienating those around them. Dread and anguish became my constant companions while I was reading this novel and I’m glad that I choose to read this when I was off work (I devoured this novel in less than 24h) since These Violent Delights is a riveting edge-of-your-seat kind of read.
A sense of unease pervades this story as even the early stages of Paul and Julian’s relationship are fraught. Julian is almost secretive when it comes to his family, and disapproves of the contempt Paul harbours towards his own mother. Their love for each other often veers into dislike, if not hatred, and they are quite capable of being extremely cruel to each other. Even so we can see why they have become so entangled together, and why they oppose anyone who threatens to separate them. But as they enable one other, their teenage angst morphs into a more perturbing sort of behaviour. Time and again we are left wondering who, if anyone, is in control.

“All they were—all they had ever been—was a pair of sunflowers who each believed the other was the sun.”

My summary of this novel won’t do it justice as I fear I’m making it sound like any other ‘dark’ tale of obsessive friendships (in this case a romantic one but still). It is Nemerever’s writing that elevates his story from ‘interesting’ to exhilarating (and downright distressing). He evokes the claustrophobic and oppressive nature of Paul and Julian’s bond, making us feel as if we too are caught in their all-consuming relationship. Nemerever’s also acutely renders Paul’s discomforts, the intensity of his love for Julian, of his self-loathing, and of his conflicting desires (to be known, to be unknowable). He wants his family to understand him, but in those instances when they prove that they may understand him more than he thinks, he does not hear them out.

“All I want to do is make you happy, and you’re the unhappiest person I’ve ever met.”

Similarly to The Secret History, the narrative is very much examining the way we can fail to truly see the people closest to us. Paul’s low self-esteem makes him constantly doubt everyone around, Julian included. He perceives slights where there are none, and even seems to find a sort of twisted pleasure (or as Lacan would have it, jouissance) in second-guessing Julian’s feelings towards him or in assuming the worst of others. He projects a preconceived image of Julian onto him (someone who is cruel and deceitful, someone who, unlike Paul himself, can easily adapt or pretend to be normal), and this prevents him from seeing him as he truly is.
The love Paul feels for Julian is almost fanatical, doomed to be destructive. This is the type of relationship that would not be out of place in a Magda Szabó (The Door), Joyce Carol Oates (Solstice) or a Barbara Vine novel (The House of Stairs, No Night is Too Long, A Fatal Inversion) or as the subject of a song by Placebo (I’m thinking of ‘Without You I’m Nothing’).

“They were wild and delirious and invincible, and it was strange that no one else could see it.”

Nemerever’s writing style is exquisite and mature. I was struck by the confidence of his prose (it does read like a debut novel). Not one word is wasted, every sentence demands your attention (which is difficult when the story has you flipping pages like no tomorrow). Nemerever brings to life every scene and character he writes of, capturing, for example, with painful precision the crushing disquiet Paul feels (24/7), his loneliness (exacerbated by his queerness and intelligence) and his deep-seated insecurity. Nemerever doesn’t always explicitly states what Paul is feeling, or thinking, and the ambiguity this creates reminded me very much of Shirley Jackson, in particular of Hangsaman (a scene towards the end was particularly reminiscent of that novel). Readers will have to fill the gaps or try to read the subtext of certain scenes or exchanges between P and J.

Not only did this book leave me with a huge book-hangover but it also left me emotionally exhausted (when I tried picking up other books my mind kept going back to Paul and Julian). Paul is one of the most miserable characters I’ve ever read of. And while he is no angel, I found myself, alongside his family, wanting to help him. But I could also understand him as he strongly reminded of my own teenage experiences, and of how ‘wretched’ and alone I felt (woe is me), as well as the fierce, and at times detrimental, friendships I formed during those vulnerable years.
In spite of what Paul and Julian do, I cared deeply for them. I wanted to ‘shake’ them, but I also desperately wanted them to be happy.
I’m sure I could blather on some more, but I will try and stop myself here. Reading These Violent Delights is akin to watching a slow-motion video of a car accident or some other disaster. You know what will happen but you cannot tear your eyes away. Read this at your own peril!

MY RATING: 5 / 5 stars

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Vicious by V.E. Schwab

Schwab’s aesthetics dominate this novel. There is a focus on how words and phrases sound, which does pay off, in fact, Schwab’s prose is one of the most likeable things of this novel. At times certain turn of phrases or repetitions may come across as pretentious or flowery but I think that for the most part Schwab exerts great control over her words. She measures pauses and words as to instil a rhythm to her narration. So, in some ways, Vicious is more ‘style’ than anything else. What characters say, how they look, how Schwab words things, it all creates a certain ‘look’.
While I did find the story to be engaging (different timelines keep the momentum of the story) I wasn’t completely taken by the characters. They seemed very much ‘sketches’ of existing types: morally grey for the sole purpose of seeming ‘ambiguous’…hopefully the sequel will provide them to be slightly more complex then what they came across as…


MY RATING: 3 of 5 stars

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The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang


Review of The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang
★★★★✰ 4 that-was-bloody-intense stars

This novel is incredibly engaging. I found myself desperate to read it as often as I could, because I was involved by the story Kuang has so vividly rendered.

The storyline might seem a bit predictable at first – orphan goes to a special school, discovers ‘uncanny’ abilities, yadda yaddabut the way in which Kuang delivers this trope-y story made it seem anything but clichéd.

It might sound daft but one of the aspects that pulled me into this story is that Kuang made me believe in Rin and her tumultuous and often hostile world. The many physical and inner conflicts she faces made me deeply weary. I grew increasingly apprehensive. Kuang does not sugar coat the brutality of war and the inevitable horrors brought by such conflicts. Yet, Kuang’s prose could deliver such beautiful and elegant phrases that I could not find anything she wrote distasteful. Her style would often come across as simple but it is this apparent simplicity that makes Kuang’s words all the more effective. There is a raw almost visceral aspect to her writing that makes it hard not to be affected by what she writes of.
The Poppy War makes you constantly re-think and re-evaluate what you read of.

As much as I loved this book there are a few things that I thought could have been “better” or that I hope can be more developed in the next instalments.

Here are a few thoughts:

✔The way in which Kung depicts a moving body is simply captivating. I was in awe of her descriptions of combat. Even when during these fighting scenes the “eyes” seem to be a bit overdone (everyone seems to have very arresting eyes, especially those who fight well or are shamans).

Rin, this girl, this young woman, frustrated the hell out of me. She is a act first, think later, kind of person. Also, you know how some say that there is no such thing as a stupid question? Well, I disagree, because Rin asks a helluva of stupid questions. And the she is ‘stunned’ or suprised by the unfavourable reactions these often insubordinate questions illicit. She enragers her peers, and her superiors, with her words and her obtuseness. Yet, in spite of my not liking her or her attitude, I still cared for her. Especially since she seems to be treated like a pinata by most of the characters.

And yes, I do mean that she is treated as something that should be bashed about. Her mentors are not upfront enough, pushing her to make stupid decisions. Her friends…well, I don’t think that there is one healthy relationship or friendship in this book. ,b>The relationships she has verge on or are of an abusive (physical and non) nature. Given the world Rin lives in it’s hardly surprising that this should be the case….still
The path that she takes feels sadly unavoidable. It’s refreshing to read about a female character who longs for power….but the damage caused by Rin’s newfound thirst for revenge…well…mmmh…there is no coming back from that.

✖A lot of characters tell Rin the classic “you don’t know what I’ve been through” line. I mean, they are all living through a war, so I don’t think Rin should just let others bemoan their own tragedies, especially since before this new explosion of violence, Rin was already an outcast.

The few female characters that make an appearance are all very negative depictions of femininity. They are shrill and or unnecessary mean, especially towards – surprise surprise – Rin. They seemed very “flat”. They were either jealous or callous, treating Rin in a cold or aggressive manner. Hopefully new female characters in the following instalments will change this but…

✖I think the novel would have benefited from having a few more descriptions of the characters’ surroundings. I know it is an action focused novel but a more delineated landscape would have made Rin’s world all the more vivid.

Overall, I recommend this very much to both historical and fantasy fans. If you love the trope of the “tragic hero/ine” whose thirst for revenge and power bring about their own destruction…look no further. Rin is an Anakin Skywalker in the makings…

I know quite a lot of people are worried by the “trigger warnings” but this book is never gratuitously violent. The violence depicted is both brutal and necessary, and because of it, we can better understand Rin and those around her.

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Night Film by Marisha Pessl

 

Review of Night Film by Marisha Pessl
★★★★★  5 of 5 starsnightfilm

“As much as some people would like to believe, for their own peace of mind, that the appearance of evil in this world had a clean cause, the truth was never that simple.”

Sometimes, if we are lucky enough, we ‘bump’ into one of those novels. Those novels that make us stay up late, be late for work, and ignore our friends. Night Film is one of those novels (for me at least). I didn’t merely ‘read’ this book, I lived it. I was thrust into an increasingly alluring and almost labyrinthine storyline, and the more I read the more I forgot my own surroundings. I was desperate to know the truth behind Cordova but I was also weary of what this truth was. I could hardly hazard guesses of my own because I was so swept away by the narrative . The closer I came to the end the more nervous I became.
This is the type of book that tests the boundaries between real and unreal, providing an incredibly atmospheric setting and a breath-taking plot. The use of different medias (journal articles, police reports, interviews, websites, photos) makes the reading experience all the richer.

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The premise of the story is intriguing enough: the apparent suicide of the young daughter of a reclusive and mysterious film director sets in motion the investigation of a disgraced journalist. Did Ashley Cordova really kill herself? And if so, why?
Scott McGrath and Ashley’s father have some history. So, Scott’s search is initially sparked by a vindictive desire to shed some truth on Cordova. But what this truth is, it is hard to say.
Joining his investigation – and to his own displeasure – are Hopper, a drug-dealer who’d met Ashley years before, and Nora, a wannabe actress who ends up in possession of Ashley’s distinctive red coat.
The friendship between Scott and Nora is perhaps one of only wholly uplifting things of this novel. They have starkly different views and come from incredibly different places but they simply had that spark that made each of their interactions so entertaining and affective.
The people they encounter are rendered vividly trough both their dialogue and Marisha Pessl’s striking descriptions..
Another aspect of this novel that I really appreciated is its protagonist. Scott is hardly an all-round-good-guy. He is obsessed on Cordova, tends to disregard other’s opinions, and often considers others in rather stereotypical terms but, I think he does so because he is a writer, so he enjoys dramatizing what he see and observes. While his motivations are not selfless, he shows that he can be caring and capable of questioning his own assumptions.
The last section of this novel is almost delirious trip (to where nightmares are made). There is a crescendo of confusion and strangeness that is stressed by the narration itself. While I found the ending infuriatingly abrupt I also feel that it was the only way this novel could end. As much as I craved for a neat ending that would tie all loose ends, it was inevitable that Night Film would end the way it did.

A stunning novel that will remain with me for a long time (hopefully Cordova won’t make a cameo in my dreams…)

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The Wicker King by K. Ancrum

Wicker King

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum

My rating: ★★★★✰ 4

The Wicker King was a quick and vivid read. Rather than chapters, this story is told through snippets: a page or two showing us one particular moment of August’s life. These brief glimpses perfectly bring to life each of the scenes/moments they portray: they are very visual, focusing on impressions and fleeting feelings. Pictures, scribbles and photos all add to the narrative. Some of the things we are shown – such as detention notes or medical notes – tell us things that August doesn’t. As our characters – August and Jack – are no longer able to hide their troubles the colour of the pages shifts from white to black.
Ancrum’s technique and style are very visual: she almost seems to adhere to a certain ‘aesthetic’…and it really works. It is so very effective. It makes both the characters and her story really stand out. August, Jack and their surroundings are all rendered through this language that is visual.
The story follows August: a teenager in the early 2000s, living with a severely depressed mother, selling drugs to other students to make ends meet. He is secretly best friends with Jack, a much more popular student, who is a jock. August wants to keep their friendship outside of school, given that they are on opposite end of the social spectrum. Despite his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude August cares deeply about Jack, and readily admits that he would do anything for him. So, when Jack starts experiencing increasingly frequent hallucinations, he stays by his side, offering his help when Jack starts believing that his ‘other world’ is real. Things don’t go as planned. August’s tries – and fails – to avoid the repercussion of his own actions, putting both himself and Jack in danger.
This was very much a story about an intense friendship between two young people who are neglected by their parents and by the adults around them. They seek in one another what they can’t find at home or at school. Their relationship becomes a lifeline: the pressure is such that it makes it skewed.
So, in short, I loved this novel. As simple as that. Two scared young teens are left to cope with things they shouldn’t. For better or for worse they stick together. Their almost toxic and passionate relationship is beautifully rendered in this lovely novel.

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Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

How can I have ‘enjoyed’ or ‘liked’ this novel?
Well…I did find myself flinching away from it a few times…

Well, what can be said about Lolita that hasn’t been said? Who hasn’t heard of it? The influence this work has had on modern culture is astounding: just think that the meaning of the name Lolita has changed because of this novel. The reputation this novel has gained however doesn’t really do it justice. It is almost viewed as a perverse work of fiction. And in some ways, it is that. Humbert Humbert is sick. His fantasies, his romanticising his own inclination and actions, well…there can be no doubt that Humber is indeed a perverse individual. Yet, the novel is so much more than this. Humbert’s role as a narrator makes us question ourselves. How can someone so monstrous be amusing? How can he be anything other than a pedophile?
Vladimir Nabokov achieves wonders in this novel. I ‘might have been disgusted and repulsed, but I was also completely taken by Nabokov’s style. The way he plays with different languages (English, Russian, French), the incredible attention he pays to someone’s intonation, the cadence of certain words or the rhythm created by others. I was so in awe of the way in which Nabokov’s works with words that I almost didn’t take in the horrific things that make up the majority of Humbert’s narrative.
I do understand why some readers might be read this and feel nothing but disgust, but, lets remember that Nabokov is not Humbert. Nor is he condemning Humbert. What Nabokov seemed to be doing was to create a narrative that reflects Humbert’s distorted mind. Nabokov is clever, so very clever. The self-aware and dynamic narrative is filled by vivid imagery: sounds, colours, smells, textures…Nabokov offers all.
My only ‘con’ is that the storyline lost a bit of its drive towards the end of the novel. Lolita is an uneasy read that will – no doubt – make you feel uncomfortable. However, the subject itself shouldn’t hide the Nabokov’s prolific style.

My rating: 3.5 stars

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Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane

While this might not be Lehane’s best novel, it is one of his most suspenseful ones.
Having watched the screen adaptation years ago, I was worried that I would not be able to find the twist as shocking…well, I shouldn’t have worried. Lehane is always able to shock his readers.
A story that thrums with tension, Shutter Island constantly questions its own narrative and characters. A mounting uncertainty accompanies readers – and the story’s protagonist– in what soon reveals to be a puzzling – and inexplicable – mystery. The disappearance of a patient in a hospital for the criminally insane brings U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels and his partner Chuck Aule, to Shutter Island. Teddy’s investigation is further complicated by the island’s uncooperative staff and an incoming hurricane. In the midst of these adversatives Teddy is forced to confront his own past. A confined setting and plenty of suspicious characters add more fuel this mystery.
Lehane’s ability to flesh out different characters is as good as ever. Through a few sharp observations, or a word or two, he is able to bring characters to life: they are all remarkably vivid. Teddy, Chuck, the orderlies, the doctors, they all strike an impression in the reader.
Lehane’s very immediate style intensifies the emotional charge of his scenes. Also, his narration reflects the protagonist’s state of mind, causing an instantaneous reaction in the reader.
This a story if violence, denial, and trauma. While it may be upsetting (*ahem*…devastating…) it is also incredibly engaging novel, one that poses plenty of challenging questions.

My rating: 4.5 stars

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The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

An eerie and elegantly written novel that thrums with increasing suspense. Waters’ masterfully renders past times and The Little Stranger shows that she can faithfully write non-Victorian settings. The novel’s vivid atmosphere lacks the passion which we can find in other stories by Waters.
This novel is rather slow paced: Dr. Faraday’s befriends the Ayreses who soon reveal themselves to be struggling. Their financial situation and poor reputation is not the only thing that bothers them. Something ‘sinister’ is occurring in the crumbling mansion they live in, something that seems set on haunting them. While I found Faraday’s narration compelling, I was never really taken by him or the other characters. They might be fully-fleshed out people but their vigourless conversations didn’t make them particularly fascinating.
It is the constant tension that makes the storyline so gripping. The ambiguous characters and strange occurrences are the best aspects of the novel. Waters’ writing is –as per usual– simply terrific. There is something refined about the way in which she writes, that complements the setting of her story.
Not her best but a solid read for fans of Gothic fiction.

My rating: 3.5 stars

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If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio

“Actors are by nature volatile–alchemic creatures composed of incendiary elements, emotion and ego and envy. Heat them up stir them together, and sometimes you get gold. Sometimes disaster.”

An enjoyable debut novel that delivers plenty of Shakespearean ‘nuggets’.
To label this story a mystery is a mistake. It isn’t. It is quite obvious what has happened, however, that doesn’t make the book any less entertaining.
We follow Oliver during a particular stressful period of his life the months leading up to his arrest. His relationship with his close friends becomes particularly tense: jealousies and misunderstanding abound in his life. Rio’s captures the anxieties of a young and ambitious group of people who make the mistake of believing to be the only ones struggling with their situation causing them slowly to drift from one another. I wish some things could have been developed a bit more, especially when concerning Oliver’s relationship with a certain character. Nevertheless, If We Were Villains has plenty of vivid characters and is written in a swift and occasionally eloquent writing style. I definitely recommend this to fans of Shakespeare or of the theatre.

My rating: 3.75 of 5 stars

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