England | My Haunted Library

April 25, 2021
by Jennifer 1 Comment

Review: The Book of Koli

Deadly molesnakes, killer trees, and fearsome faceless men are nothing compared to the chilling secrets that Koli learns about his post-apocalyptic world.

The Book of Koli—M.R. Carey, 2020. Rating 5/5

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Fifteen-year-old Koli desperately wants to be a Rampart: one of the privileged few in his village who control the old tech that keeps them all safe. And decades after humankind played fast and loose with science, there are lots and lots of things in the woods that want to hurt people, like rogue drones, choker seeds, and tree-cats. When Koli fails to become a Rampart and must settle for life as Koli Woodsmith, he is overcome with jealousy of his friend Haijon, who not only became Haijon Rampart, but won the girl Koli fancied. When Koli learns a shocking truth from a traveling doctor, he grows even more determined to “wake” the old tech. The result is both marvelous and devastating, and changes Koli’s life forever.

I could not put this book down.

Carey’s worldbuilding is superlative. We are tantalized, recognizing remnants of our own world; fascinated by tech even we don’t have yet; and sobered by this vision of things gone wrong, propelling humankind back to a pre-industrial society. We experience a poignant awarenes of things lost, a feeling shared by Koli and other characters. Carey brings his world to life with distinctive speech patterns, cultural traditions, and even conflicting religious doctrines, all unique, yet all with recognizable ties to our contemporary society. The result is brilliant: We feel a close connection to Koli’s world but remain just off-kilter enough to feel a sense of wonder and uncertainty.

Koli bridges the gap for us. He is both deeply wise and heartbreakingly naïve: fundamentally human. Sensitive, kind, and self-aware, Koli knows the pitfalls of his choices but is subject to his youthful emotions. I don’t want to give too much away about this incredible book. It is a journey of discovery for reader as much as it is for Koli: An apocalyptic Bildungsroman filled with harrowing adventures, humor, and hope. Highly recommended.

September 27, 2020
by Jennifer Leave a comment

Review: Death of a Cozy Writer

When the egotistical Sir Adrian gleefully announces his intentions to remarry, he sends his avaricious children into a tizzy—now who will be first in line to inherit? They should worry: Sir Adrian is promptly and violently sent to meet his maker by someone near and dear. It is up to DCI St. Just and Sergeant Fear to ferret out the killer.

Death of a Cozy Writer—G.M. Malliet, 2008. Rating 4/5

Sir Adrian gained his fabulous wealth by penning a series of wildly popular cozy mysteries, although apparently borrowing liberally from the likes of Agatha Christie. The snug, homey nature of Sir Adrian’s stories is especially ironic given own his own vile personality. Sir Adrian summons his grasping brood to his estate to introduce his fiancé. Outraged and nursing grudges from their dreadful childhoods they arrive: Sarah, an overweight author of biblical cookbooks, George, a handsome artist accompanied by his svelte girlfriend Natasha, Albert a bit part actor, and Ruthven, the eldest, a chip off Adrian’s ruthless block.

Because Sir Adrian was universally detested, suspects abound. Was it his new bride, Violet accused of murdering her first husband years ago? The Italian cook and her brooding son? The irrepressibly energetic American secretary? The bitter ex-wife? One of Adrian’s business associates-slash-sexual flings? Stoical St. Just will have a tough job cutting through sarcasm and secrets.

Death of a Cozy Writer is delightful. A clever, sophisticated twist on the traditional British country house mystery. While the plot has enough red herrings to satisfy genre buffs, it is the characters that make the story a standout. Snarky and unlikeable, they’ll earn your eye-rolling, withering asides, but yet somehow manage to grow on you. Malliet weaves her web with wit and a devilish sense of humor. She caught me. This description alone cracks me up: “Her voice when she spoke, was deep, seductive, whiskey-soaked, like Lauren Bacall doing voiceovers for cat food” (151). Death of a Cozy Writer pays homage to mystery greats but is stylishly original. I can’t wait to read the next in the series.

June 14, 2020
by Jennifer 1 Comment

Review: The Ghosts of Sleath

Called to the remote village of Sleath to investigate a mundane haunting, psychic researcher David Ash quickly discovers that the picturesque little town hides evil at its core—and darkness will have its day.

The Ghosts of Sleath—James Herbert, 1994. Rating 4.5/5

Ash is still reeling from a previous assignment, where a trio of malicious ghosts upended all of Ash’s beliefs. (Haunted—see my review here.) Now, investigating the ghostly appearance of a little drowned boy in Sleath seems like a comparative walk in the park. Although most of the villagers are…reserved…Ash forms an instant, emotional connection to Grace Lockwood, the vicar’s daughter. Meanwhile, disturbingly violent events, catalyzed by the sudden return of foul spirits, begin to plague Sleath. Villagers are tormented by things they—rightfully—feared By the time Ash discovers that Sleath is home to a cabal of very dark arts, the village inhabitants (dead and alive) reach a cataclysmic breaking point.

The Ghosts of Sleath is a crackerjack read. One reason this title pleases me so much is because Herbert is a wordsmith. He creates an eerie village setting juxtaposing moments of simple beauty (I paused to reread twice a vision that captured a breathtaking sense of normalcy caught out of time), with uniquely disturbing imagery. Herbert balances scenes of gore and violence with glimpses of things barely seen, teasing our imaginations one moment, then fulfilling them the next. Exceptional character development makes the horror hit home. Ash is a great flawed hero. He drowns his guilt with vodka and still tries to manage his psychic powers with self-delusion and skepticism. We empathize with him, as we do Grace: an intelligent, perceptive, kind woman whose love for her father hides a secret from herself. The Ghosts of Sleath satisfies on multiple levels: it is both a ripping good ghost story with remarkable visuals (it would be a stunner of a film), and an affecting character study. Highly recommended.

January 20, 2019
by Jennifer Leave a comment

Review: The Silent Companions

The Silent Companions – Laura Purcell, 2017. 5/5

Here’s a hackles-raising, creepy little gem of a Victorian gothic that you won’t soon forget. Thank you, The Silent Companions, for getting my 2019 off to a horrific (in a good way) start.

I’m not easily scared. I want to be, badly. My problem is I get too excited about dissecting why and how something is scary. In a haunted house, I’m dancing around the guy with the chainsaw busily admiring how they strung the fishing wire to make it feel like spiderwebs brushing your face. I know. Lame.

I can honestly say, however, The Silent Companions raised actual goosebumps and made me say ooooh out loud. That’s huge. Purcell has crafted an uncommonly disturbing story. It will sneak up on you. And maybe make you put your Dutch paintings in the basement.

I’m going to keep the plot summary brief. I want you to come to The Silent Companions with as clean a slate as possible for maximum impact. In short: It is 1865. Elsie Bainbridge is newly married to and abruptly widowed from the handsome entrepreneur, Rupert. She is now heir to Rupert’s fortune and his crumbling family estate, The Bridge. Pregnant and looked at with some suspicion in London because of her sudden wealth, Elsie travels with Rupert’s mousy cousin, Sarah, to the family seat. The mansion is in disrepair, the servants are inept and contrary, the village is a muddy hovel filled with superstitious and hostile inhabitants. Strange noises, mysterious accidents, and off-the-charts macabre appearances of life-like cut-out paintings are enough to drive one mad.

The Silent Companions is beautifully layered story. With menacing subtlety, Purcell closes a series of traps around the two women: their class, gender, Victorian norms, self-doubt, and past history, each combine to render them more and more powerless against the real evil in the house.

Purcell’s writing is brilliant. Tension builds exquisitely as we readers share Elsie’s confinement in the remote locale and her increasing fear and claustrophobia. Purcell further surprises us by exploding Victorian gentility with rudely shocking events.

The Silent Companions is a deceptively quiet, chilling, stunner of a read. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

January 13, 2019
by Jennifer 1 Comment

Review: The Death of Mrs. Westaway

The Death of Mrs. Westaway—Ruth Ware, 2018. 4.5

Superstitions and secrets make for a tense read in this deeply satisfying mystery.

At just twenty-one, Hal is saddled with all the responsibilities—and fears—of adulthood. Working as a tarot reader after the death of her mother, Hal is drowning in bills, soon to be homeless, and threatened by an unsavory lender. She is desperate.

Then she receives a letter that could change her life, naming her as a beneficiary in her grandmother’s will: impossible, since her grandparents died a decade ago. With no other options, Hal decides to scam her way into some inheritance money. This sounds simple in the abstract, but when she is warmly accepted by the family members, Hal is torn. As Hal works herself deeper into an ethical dilemma, she uncovers a passel of ominous family secrets and puts herself in mortal danger.

The Death of Mrs. Westaway is a modern take on a classic country house mystery. A closed circle of suspects, an isolated location, an old mystery slowly exposed through tantalizing diary entries from the past, all combined with a scrappy heroine who has no one to trust (who no one should trust), are well calculated to make us mystery lovers shiver in delight.

Ware’s careful plotting and lightning pacing work to maximize suspense, making you perfectly o.k. with the fact that very little action takes place until a final, movie-worthy dramatic climax. Ware does a few—good!—things differently with The Death of Mrs. Westaway that make for a surprising and welcome contrast to the feel of her other books. Here, she adds a tantalizing touch of the almost-supernatural: enticing us with the exotically arcane details and symbolism of Hal’s tarot cards and adding a rich layer to the narrative.

There is also a pleasantly unexpected warmth to the characters of this tale. We like Hal, with her helpless façade hiding her inner strength. We root for her as she simultaneously struggles with her deception yet is at the mercy of other deceptions swirling around her.

While the mystery itself is not especially tangled, Ware’s humanizing use of deeper themes make us reflect on both the nature of family and the creation of identity, all the while we’re eagerly flying through the pages to discover who done it. And just what it was. The Death of Mrs. Westaway is my favorite of Ware’s works so far.

July 22, 2018
by Jennifer 1 Comment

Review: A Brush with Shadows

A Brush with Shadows – Anna Lee Huber, 2018. Rating: 5/5

There are no spectral hounds terrorizing the moors in A Brush with Shadows, but mysterious poisonings, a family curse, and treacherous tors more than satisfy in this deliciously atmospheric installment in Huber’s Lady Darby series.

It is the summer of 1831, and newlyweds Lady Kiera Darby and her husband, golden boy and inquiry agent Sebastian Gage, are summoned to Dartmoor by Gage’s failing grandfather. Their task: to find Gage’s missing ne’er-do-well cousin, last seen on the perilous moor. Gage, however, is less than happy to be home.

After an emotionally abusive childhood at the hands of his viperish aunt and vicious cousins, followed by the unnatural death of his mother, Gage left his family home forever. Returning now to Langstone Manor, he and Kiera find that little has changed: the manor is heavy with lies and animosity and secrets.

Despite deceptions thrown up by the unhelpful family and Gage’s own deep-seated anger towards his cousin, Gage feels honor-bound find him. And Kiera is there to help, both with the inquiry and with helping Gage confront his long-suppressed emotions.

A Brush with Shadows ranks as perhaps my favorite in the series thus far. Huber is beautifully on point in creating a sinister—even slightly spooky—mood. The manor itself is labyrinthian, dark, and filled with secret passages. Whispers of witchcraft, possible pixie encounters, and ominous dreams add delightful shivers.

Huber uses this tantalizing mystery to further deepen her characters. We have watched Kiera’s progression across the series as she worked to transcend her past and the invectives cast at her: transforming from social pariah to self-assured partner and even a quietly strong advocate for women in an age when their rights were limited.

As a new wife, Kiera treads gently but firmly to get to root of Gage’s emotions, intuiting her way through highly relatable marital uncertainties. And the pair’s romantic relationship—yep, satisfying there, too.

I didn’t want this book to end, and I can’t wait for the next one, though Huber will have her work cut out for her to surpass A Brush with Shadows. New to Lady Darby? You are in for a treat. But start with the first title so you don’t miss anything: The Anatomist’s Wife.