Retro Review: Tangerine

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I spent this entire book expecting some sort of Flight Club / Mr. Robot twist. Yup, I totally thought Alice and Lucy were the two different personalities of the same person. I'm not crazy, I swear there were clues EVERYWHERE!

Exhibits A, B, C, D, etc.: (spoiler alert) when Lucy introduces herself to Joseph as Alice, when Alice says Lucy's name and Tom thinks she's introducing herself, when John reveals that he married her in an arranged deal between his mother and her aunt (to keep her out of the loony bin!), when Lucy looks at the two of them together in the window and sees only her own reflection, when Lucy suddenly appears to Alice out of nowhere, also, they both suffer from weird medical quirks (ringing in the ear, shadows in the eyes) and they both have an obsession with certain words, also, the incident with the bracelet, the incident with the clothes .... COME ON!! It actually occurred to me that the author might have been overly obvious about it on purpose, to throw me off the scent. I was so wrong!

Okay. Now that I have that out of the way, here's the thing: Tangerine is, and I hate to use this word, but I'm going to use it: derivative. It smells too much like Rebecca or Notes on a Scandal or Carol or The Paying Guests or Patricia Highsmith or even The Secret History for me to be truly impressed. I know the publisher used that as a selling point, and it definitely caught my attention, but instead of evoking those works Tangerine felt like a ... weird, less satisfying spin-off, or something.

I also, for maybe the first time ever, was very aware that this book was written by a debut author. I'm sorry - I know that's mean to say, but it just felt ... amateur. I really enjoyed the depiction of two complicated, multifaceted women, both as villains and victims, but in this case their voices were way too similar. I think that's partly why I thought they were the same person - there was virtually no distinction between their narrative tones. There is some great imagery, but the tension is almost non-existent. Also, I think this could have been a very successful short story instead of a short-ish novel.

The best scene, in my opinion, is the first one involving the bracelet. I'm sure I stopped breathing. Mangan managed to write something profoundly and intimately unsettling, turning my grasp of the situation completely on its head. If she channeled that talent into something a little less ambitious, if she kept things closer and more tightly bound, we'd have something really amazing to read.

Tangerine on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Eyre Affair (Thursday Next #1)

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

4 stars. What a delightful, quirky book.

I'm not even sure where to begin, actually.

First of all, as an English Literature graduate, I got such a kick out of the premise. Not just the premise, really, but the world-building. What a fantastic opportunity to escape into a world in which literature shapes society, in which books are considered priceless cultural heirlooms, in which cults are formed based on theories of authorship and the government dedicates an entire faction to "literary crimes." The Eyre Affair grants my wish to experience a world in which everyone - everyone - is as obsessed with reading as I am. The literary inside jokes are astoundingly funny.

It's also wonderfully British. I could practically hear the accents in the perfectly paced conversations. The English setting lends to the lightheartedness of the story and the charm of the characters. It's mocking but in a loving way and made me homesick for London. I really, really appreciated the author's obvious love for Jane Eyre, and Shakespeare, and Dickens - it's clear that this book (or these books, I haven't read any others in the Thursday Next series), are his love letters to the classics.

It's also a bit difficult to swallow, at first. Perhaps because of my degree, it takes more effort for me to suspend belief without the burden of analysis - somewhere along the way, I've forgotten how to simply sit back, employ full acceptance of what I'm reading, and relax and enjoy the ride. This is a perfect reminder that unique storytelling comes in all weird shapes and bizarre sizes, and even occasionally-cutesy "fluff" can have something meaningful embedded in its pages.

This is not a book to be taken seriously, but it is seriously enjoyable and great. I'm into Thursday Next and will be reading more.

The Eyre Affair on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Rosewater

4 stars. Here’s my main point, upfront: this book requires you to just sit back and enjoy the ride. It’s a complicated, futuristic sci-fi with alternating sets of flashbacks and a lot of unknown vocabulary. It’s intimidating, multifaceted and strange, but very imaginative and entertaining.

Full disclosure: I was in the mood for this book. I had just finished both The Cabin at the End of the World and Call Me By Your Name and was done done done with gut punches for awhile. I literally said to someone, “Aliens, aliens, give me your fucking aliens.”

So I went for it. And Tade Thompson WENT FOR IT. And I couldn’t put it down, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and I want more. I surrendered to the crazy and thoroughly enjoyed the twists and turns and Thompson’s brilliance.

Stepping back, though, if you’re interested: the title refers to a town in future Nigeria called Rosewater, which surrounds an alien biome that opens once a year and heals people suffering from injury or illness. Our protagonist is Kaaro, a surly yet charming psychic “finder” who uses his abilities to protect a bank from cyber threats and to serve as an agent for a shadowy government agency called S45. Through alternating flashbacks, we follow Kaaro through three separate timelines: the present, during which he navigates and deals with the alien threat, a middle period, during which we learn about his initial work with S45, and an early period, during which we see Kaaro as a young thief trying to survive in the chaotic aftermath of an alien landing on Earth.

Remember when I said it was intimidating and multifaceted?

It’s also full and wonderful. Kaaro makes for a refreshingly unpredictable protagonist, and the supporting characters operate with an exciting amount of agency. The diverse setting proves its worth again and again and while yes - there are unanswered questions at the end - Thompson ties up loose ends nicely.

I have to admit - I loved that America was “dark” (essentially a non-presence) in this book. Good, I’m tired of hearing about America and need a fucking break (and I live there). Elevate other voices, other cultures, other worlds.

I docked a star for the flashback narrative structure, which threw me off more than once. And also because I’m unconvinced Thompson’s portrayal of women is well-rounded, or shall I say, anywhere outside of or beyond a sexual lens. Sure, Kaaro’s a bit of a horndog, but there must be someone even he doesn’t measure immediately based on her appearance or his sexual appetite.

But as I said first: this book is a wild ride and requires a certain commitment to just accepting it and rolling with the punches. I really, really, really loved it. I was inspired by it. I can’t wait to read more of this bizarre, insane, captivating story.

Rosewater on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Historian

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

3 stars. It's odd that the title refers to a single historian; because this book, as it turns out, is about many historians: young, old, ancient, scholarly, accidental, academic, serious, casual, etc. The reader too becomes a historian by default, simply because the story in so many places emulates a textbook or reference guide. Which was actually kind of weird! And unexpected, in a book about vampires.

Anyway, as a whole, this book tells the story of how all these different historians converged together on a monster hunt.

And, in my opinion, it's just okay.

First of all - it's very atmospheric. I loved the descriptions of the libraries and old books and the villages and the hotels and the train rides. Those parts made me feel transported, and ready to quit my desk job for more scholarly pursuits.

But as much as I love epistolary novels, I actually found myself a little confused about the nonlinear structure. It felt like I was trying to keep track of too many parentheticals at once: He ran to the store on a Wednesday (but not a Tuesday [or a Thursday {or a Friday}]). Too many stories within stories within stories! I'm sure if I read it straight through without stopping I would be able to keep better track, but several times in the course of reading I picked up the book and had to remind myself who was narrating.

The writing style reminded me of Arthur Conan Doyle - fans of Sherlock Holmes will certainly love this, and stick with it to the end. It's a mystery with unlikely detectives finding clues in the most basic and tedious ways - through academia. Unfortunately, for me, the emphasis landed on tedious. I almost couldn't get through this, to be honest, and the ending was a little confounding.

More than a little, actually. Was the monster even that monster-y, in the end? Was anybody secretly hoping Rossi would say, "YES - OF COURSE - I will be your scholar and forever be entrusted with the greatest collection of books the world has ever seen!" Sigh. It just didn't seem to fit. Dracula's evil nature was revealed only through descriptions of the way his eyes looked, and the way his voice sounded; not through his actions. Aren't we trained to not judge a book by its cover? I found myself looking for clues into Dracula's secret character, hoping to find out more. Unfortunately, when they finally caught up to him, all the characters found was a man with cold eyes and a raspy voice who didn't really do much of anything.

Bottom Line: I can see why this book was a huge hit for some people. It was only a semi-hit for me, but that doesn't mean I can't truly appreciate it all the same. The author deserves 3 stars for her impressive writing and the thorough amount of research she incorporated into the book.

The Historian on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Call Me By Your Name

3 stars. This book lands squarely in the middle for me. Andre Aciman is talented, no doubt about that. He can paint a pretty picture, he refreshingly avoids cliches, he makes things feel inevitable and unexpected at the same time. He captures moments in time with great care and thoughtful word choice. His phrasing is lyrical, lush, at times very dreamy and atmospheric. Yes, the p word (pretentious) crossed my mind, but I admit that I was caught up in the story and the first world problems and this beautiful, painful romance.

Call Me By Your Name, for those who somehow don't know at this point, is about a 17-year-old boy named Elio who falls deeply in lust with a 24-year-old summer guest in Italy. Oliver and Elio circle and circle and circle before crashing together in incredibly intimate ways. I don't think it's a spoiler, really, to convey that you shouldn't expect a happily-ever-after. Oliver and Elio were always meant to part ways and so they spend their time accordingly. As the novel draws to a close, Aciman revisits them 20 years later and - as always, through Elio's perspective - examines their romance through time and place and memory and fear and shame and hope.

There are many who say they relate to Elio and his obsession. I would count myself among them. Aciman captures perfectly what it means to desire another - to long for them, fantasize about them, take note of their every move and savor every moment in their presence. There are many who say this is unhealthy, or unheard of. What perhaps upsets me is that Elio's obsession was reciprocated in a way that was both hopeful and tragically sad. He experienced mutual infatuation, and lost it. For me, it is both a fantasy and a nightmare - I want it to be true, but I don't want to believe it, and if I believe it for a second, the sadness is unbearable.

It's a testament to Aciman's writing, of course, and his ability to craft an emotional story. But honestly, I didn't find myself racing to pick this up again. I understand that the prose was polarizing for most - I found things to like and hate about it - but ultimately it was a bit much for me. And while I'm sure this was partly the intention - partly the point - I felt like I was drowning, occasionally, in hormones. Been there, done that. Of course I rooted for Elio and Oliver and of course I don't mind an unhappy ending, but something about this ... perhaps my REACTION to it ... felt like a 3-star reaction.

I'm afraid this review doesn't make much sense, and won't serve as a helpful resource for potential readers. But it's what I feel, at this time. I think you have to be in the right mood for Call Me By Your Name - for something slow and ethereal and weepy. I admire and appreciate its beauty but I don't feel fulfilled. I do, however, want to go to Italy immediately.

Call Me By Your Name on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Rebecca

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. Yikes. Yikes. This book.

It's a masterpiece. A true masterpiece.

I feasted on this novel. Absolutely dined on it. I devoured it in two days and was shocked to come to its end. It's incredible.

The writing is masterful and the storytelling is atmospheric and layered. It touches on so many things: the power of a place and its many unrealized secrets; the stubborn naivete and innocence of youth; the wired, uneasy journey into adulthood; the constant inner battle for a certain sense of self; the pressures of society and the lousy insensitivity of human nature; the tragedy of being a woman.

It's very captivating, and very horrifying, and a true gift.

I will admit that halfway through the book I was disappointed. I felt so uncomfortable and awkward reading about a hypersensitive girl making her way through a tough world. This is either a testament to the powerful writing or my own personality, but I personally felt Rebecca's presence, constantly whispering in my ear, telling me I would never live up to her, would never escape her shadow. Anyone who suffers from insecurities or anxiety will relate to the narrator's extremely accurate voice. It wasn't creepy, it was too real.

But then the revelation! The other shoe dropped, and as it turns out, it was a perfect fit. And I truly didn't anticipate the twists and turns - which I really appreciate in a world of predictable storytelling.

To those who criticized the book due to the thoughts/actions of the narrator: just because an author writes from a character's perspective does not mean the author agrees with or supports or resembles the character in any way. This should be obvious. The narrator in this story is sensitive, timid, terrified, ignorant, innocent, naive, misguided, and annoying. This is not my interpretation of her, this is how she is portrayed. It's intentional! Her desire to be loved leads her to stay married to a murderer. That is not a "heroine" in any sense of the word.

It really doesn't matter. It just doesn't. I found myself totally immersed in this story, heartbroken for both Rebecca and the narrator. Am I, as a woman, not somehow both of them? Required to be pleasant yet obligated to be direct? Failing to be simultaneously submissive and independent, as is demanded of me? Caught between doing what's expected and doing what feels right? Navigating a world that wants me to be both the Jezebel and the Madonna?

This book is a nightmare. A perfect, Gothic nightmare.

Rebecca on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Cabin at the End of the World

5 stars. WOW. I don’t even know where to begin. I loved Paul Tremblay’s A Head Full of Ghosts but felt really meh about Disappearance at Devil’s Rock, so I had no idea what to expect going into this. And honestly, until the end, I was on the fence. I really don’t take to Tremblay’s attempts to write children, and I fully expected to hate what looked to be a very bleak ending. But then I reached the last page and … felt the whammy of a gut punch so big I nearly burst into tears.

I guess we should back up. The Cabin at the End of the World opens with Eric and Andrew and their 7-year-old adopted daughter Wen on vacation in an isolated cabin with … you guessed it … no cell service. While Wen catches grasshoppers in the front yard, she’s approached by a huge and friendly man named Leonard, who engages her in weird conversation until three others show up - carrying terrifying hybrid weapons and wearing similar outfits in different colors.

Leonard and his companions are a threat, but not the type of threat you’d assume, and this sort of apocalyptic home invasion story runs a very tension-filled course. What follows is a nightmare - a nightmare that never ends and only gets worse. Wen and her fathers are good, good people who experience incredibly awful things. It’s pretty hard to recap, actually, but just know that this is a scary read. A traumatic and interesting and well-written read.

I loved that Tremblay offers us many clues - throws explanations our way, in fact - and yet leaves things ambiguous at the end. We have answers, but we don’t know what to believe. And it’s a tremendous exploration of what happens when we are backed into a corner - when our worst fears for our loved ones and ourselves unfold right in front of our eyes. You will feel like you are there. You will feel in it. You will experience the horror and the loss and the pain.

And yet it’s so captivating. I couldn’t put it down. Even when my eyes were blurry with exhaustion, my head hurt, my knee ached with sympathy pain, even when I was convinced I knew what to expect and had to muscle through it to be sure, I couldn’t put it down. Tremblay still can’t shake the almost hilarious analogies ("Leonard falls off his knees and returns to all fours, a reversal of the evolutionary ascent-of-humans pictograph..." or "Leonard is battered, a diminished and broken King Kong after the swan dive off the Empire State Building. Sabrina is pressed against the wall as though standing on the crumbling ledge of a cliff face.") but his writing here is deeply emotional. He plays it all just right.

And that ending. Fuck, it really worked for me. I thought I had it figured out - thought I knew what was going to happen. Nope, I was thrown for a wonderful loop. A wonderful loop. It felt like Horror with a capital H. Damn. This book coaxed my brain into stunning, dark places. I suppose I’m a little bit in awe. The evil here - you can't really wrap your head around it. It’s monstrous, but it’s not a monster. If that makes sense.

Look, I almost feel like I can’t recommend this. It will fuck you up and leave you wrung out. But it’s a five star book, for sure, and its brilliant premise, vivid prose and deliciously rich themes will stick with me for a long time. I mean … okay, I need a drink.

The Cabin at the End of the World on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places

4 stars. This book gets the Quintessentially Kelly award for 2018. It has all the ingredients for a home run: history, folklore, pithy writing, and the supernatural. I couldn’t put it down, and I’m devastated it’s over. If you’re looking for answers, or proof, look elsewhere. This is a straightforward examination of the questions.

I’ve always been interested in ghosts. As far back as second grade, I remember being mocked on the school bus for reading a chapter book about a haunted house. I was one of the first - and probably youngest - visitors of the early paranormal websites. In high school, my after-school routine consisted of popcorn, root beer, and A Haunting. I love - LOVE - Paranormal Witness.

And in Colin Dickey I found a compatible soul - another individual with endless questions and endless curiosity about the supernatural. I wish I had gotten to WRITE this! Talk about a dream job. He recounts ghost stories famous and not-so-famous across the country, diving into their historical context and background, truly bringing the past to life.

While some sections get a little bland, this is nowhere near a textbook. Dickey weaves through the stories his own investigation of the philosophy behind ghosts, asking and considering questions about life and death along the way. He manages to articulate many of the feelings I’ve had about homes, hotels, hospitals, cities - and the weirdness of how we interact with these … things … concepts … impressions … wrinkles … throughout history.

Keep in mind that this is not a scary book - at least, the ghosts aren’t scary. As Dickey demonstrates, many ghost stories reflect tragedy, or times of great suffering, or a failure of justice, or harsh, human cruelty. He’s smart to include this, as it wouldn’t be an American history without it. “But this, too, you could say, is part of the American story, as we have always been people who move on, leaving behind wreckage and fragments in our wake.”

And overall, it’s deeply enjoyable. I loved the chapter on Salem, and the Winchester House, and New Orleans. Dickey debunks - almost regretfully - many of the stories, but he’s careful to leave readers with a “what if?” I came for the ghost stories but LOVED his reflections on the abstract.

“We tell stories of the dead as a way of making a sense of the living. More than just simple urban legends and campfire tales, ghost stories reveal the contours of our anxieties, the nature of our collective fears and desires, the things we can’t talk about in any other way. The past we’re most afraid to speak aloud of in the bright light of day is the same past that tends to linger in the ghost stories we whisper in the dark.”

This should be read in schools. For history or literature or philosophy classes. For fun. Turn it into a documentary, or a podcast, I just want more of this content. Fuel my obsession, please. Do I believe in ghosts? Not really. But I’m deeply interested in what ghost stories say about humans. The stories within the stories. And this book delivered.

Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Terror

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. I decided to revisit this book in anticipation of the TV adaptation (which is highly entertaining and I recommend). I enjoyed it so much the first time and was once again completely shocked, completely impressed and completely immersed. Mr. Simmons has crafted an epic masterpiece and I can't wait to watch it become a classic.

I've written before about how a historical fiction novel is successful, to me, when I feel inspired to learn more on the subject. The Terror definitely sparked an intense curiosity about the arctic, arctic expeditions and the age of icy exploration. It truly is a fascinating subject and I appreciated Simmons' level of research.

And beware: there is a lot of research-based content. The length to some may have felt cumbersome, but it felt luxurious to me. Some books go deep instead of wide, some books go wide instead of deep. This book goes deep AND wide.

I didn't find it to be as scary as some readers, but I was disturbed - certainly as I was meant to be - by the detailed portrait of man's hubris in the face of nature. I'm not sure what to call it, exactly: hubris, ego, toxic masculinity, misplaced faith ... I'm referring to the stubborn streak that drove these men to the end of the earth only to be bitten, chewed and swallowed (quite literally). I wouldn't go so far as to call it poetic justice, but when these men do meet their fates, there's a sense of inevitability, acceptance, or maybe the urge to shake your head and whisper "you fools."

The writing itself is consistent. The author treats every character, every development, and every subplot with as much care and dedication as the last. He uses his skill to avoid tripping over tropes - the monster could've been a cartoon, the men could've been caricatures, the descriptions of the landscape could've been stereotypical. But this is truly unique and special.

I read an article recently about art and the author posited that there is only one true way to identify a "masterpiece:" you know one when you see one. I'm afraid that isn't a terribly objective form of measurement, but I feel like it applies here. Not only do I understand what this book is trying to do, I was also really, really entertained. 5 frozen stars.

The Terror on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Turn of the Screw

5 stars. About halfway through The Turn of the Screw, I almost put it down for good. The language was too dense and intricate, I didn't enjoy the "scary" elements, and I wasn't invested in the characters. But I kept going, and it was worth it. Things clicked. I had been trying too hard. Letting my eyes fly, instead of insisting they ruminate on each phrase or sentence, made this a more rewarding experience than I expected. I would argue it's a masterpiece.

First, for interest, the excerpt from Henry James' notebook on his inspiration for the story: 

"Note here the ghost story told me at Addington (evening of Thursday 10th), by the Archbishop of Canterbury ... the story of the young children ... left to the care of servants in an old country house through the death, presumably, of parents. The servants, wicked and depraved, corrupt and deprave the children ... The servants die (the story vague about the way of it) and their apparitions, figures return to haunt the house and children, to whom they seem to beckon ... It is all obscure and imperfect, the picture, the story, but there is a suggestion of strangely gruesome effect in it. The story to be told ... by an outside spectator, observer."

And so The Turn of the Screw became a ghost story about a governess assigned to care for two children. And care for them she does. Little Flora and her older brother Miles prove to be apt pupils and the governess settles into life in the somewhat isolated estate. Until she starts seeing ghosts. Terrified for herself and the children, the governess attempts to navigate, handle and justify her fear as apparently no one else can see the apparitions. Tragically, her relationship with Flora is destroyed and Miles ends up dead.

SPOILERS BELOW.

The beauty of this story is not in the writing itself, although the writing is very beautiful, and very difficult to appreciate, at times. James is a wordy, wordy, wordy, wordy author. His verbose rambling essentially eradicates any chance for genuine suspense or terror. Don't expect to be scared. But there is beauty here - and I would argue that it emerges via interpretation, or perhaps it is better to say via the many possible interpretations.

It reminded me a bit of Black Swan, a film with a terrific unreliable narrator. Like the governess, Natalie Portman's character seems a bit off, or stunted, or off-putting from the first scene. You root for her, because she's clearly not a villain, but things get weird and you learn not to trust her. The film ends in tragedy, but perhaps without as much ambiguity as the book. Still, it's similarly uncanny and you walk away with lingering questions.

In The Turn of the Screw, the governess is - no doubt about it - the only character to acknowledge the ghosts. To acknowledge them. Other characters might see them, or they don't. They certainly deny it. So the question becomes: is the governess mentally ill? Is she hallucinating?  Is she manifesting her suppressed rage, or suppressed sexual desire, as old while male critics seem to think? Does Miles die because of an implication?

Or are the ghosts real? Are the other characters lying? Is she "gifted" in the sense that she's the only one who can interact with the paranormal? Is she the victim of a conspiracy led against her by the household and the children? Are the ghosts out to possess or harm her? Does Miles die because of a reality - a terrifying, supernatural reality?

Is she insane, or is she a hero? EITHER WAY, I'm disturbed. EITHER WAY, she loses. She is lost. We are lost. As Brad Leithauser writes in a review I love from The New Yorker, 

"Yet—the book’s greatest feat, its keenest paradox—the ultimate effect is precisely the opposite of openness. “The Turn of the Screw” may be the most claustrophobic book I’ve ever read. Yes, you’re free to shift constantly from one interpretation to the next, and yet, as you progress deeper into the story, each interpretation begins to seem more horrible than the other. As the gruesomeness gathers, the beautiful country house effectively falls away, like flesh receding from the skull of a cadaver, and we’re deposited in a hellish, plantless, low landscape of bone and stone: plenty of places to run, but nowhere to hide."

Which is why I like both. I love that it is, or could be, or might be, or without a doubt is, both.

There's another moment in this book I'd like to consider - the moment when Miles confesses about why he was expelled from school. When I first read his admission, I instantly thought that the "words" he said must have been homosexual in nature. I believe Henry James was homosexual, and this clicks really well in my mental comprehension of the story. It's just my comprehension, though, and there are certainly so many possibilities.

This turned out to be much more of a reaction than a review, but I think that's a testament to the book's power. I want to discuss it. I want to do the "further reading." I want to analyze the shit out of that ending. I want MORE. And for that, this crazy, complicated book gets 5 stars. "No, no—there are depths, depths! The more I go over it, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I fear. I don’t know what I don’t see—what I don’t fear!"

The Turn of the Screw on: Amazon | Goodreads