bisexualbookshelf's reviews
793 reviews

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

Anna Marie Tendler's "Men Have Called Her Crazy" is a candid, raw exploration of mental health, gender dynamics, and personal trauma. Tendler's stream-of-consciousness style is fresh, witty, and darkly humorous, offering a poignant reflection on her struggles with anxiety and depression. Her narrative seamlessly jumps between past and present, providing a layered insight into her deep mistrust of the world around her.

From the very first page, Tendler hooks readers with her evocative prose and brutally honest introspection. She addresses the "good girl complex" and its manifestation in her life, even in places like psych wards. This exploration is represented by standout passages about her time in the psych ward: “Most of my life, my outward presentation has not matched my inward reality, but with my body gaunt, my face droopy and puffy at the same time, I'm forcing the outside world to confront a more honest - and probably scary - version of my mental state.”

One of the book's strongest elements is its portrayal of feminine solidarity. Tendler’s experiences with the other women in her treatment facility highlight the complexities of female relationships, marred by her initial anxieties but eventually offering a form of solace and understanding. This camaraderie is beautifully illustrated, yet the lingering effects of her anxieties persist, capturing a very real struggle many readers can relate to.

However, while the book shines in many areas, it has its shortcomings. Tendler’s aversion to men and the subsequent exploration of her past relationships with them are compelling but become repetitive towards the end. The narrative's focus on her relationships post-hospital feels like a shift from insightful mental illness analysis to a more straightforward "I hate men and my life sucks" sentiment. This pivot diminishes the earlier depth of her reflections.

Moreover, Tendler's acknowledgment of her privilege, or lack thereof, is a glaring omission. Her ability to renovate a home to a "haunting Victorian mansion" post-divorce highlights a class privilege that goes unacknowledged, leaving a gap in the narrative. A simple acknowledgment of this privilege could have added a layer of depth and awareness to her story.

Despite these critiques, Tendler’s exploration of trauma, especially regarding her "good girl complex" and control issues, is both enlightening and relatable. Her poignant reflections on how these issues have shaped her life and relationships are some of the book's most compelling aspects. For instance, her reflection, “I cemented my role in relationships as a pleaser, a convincer, a girl who, well into adulthood, would contort and conform to the desires of a man, overlooking his easy dismissal, and dampening her self-worth, all to be loved,” is a powerful commentary on the internalized struggles many women face.

In conclusion, "Men Have Called Her Crazy" is a mixed bag. Tendler's writing is undeniably powerful and evocative, particularly when discussing her time in the hospital and her struggles with mental health. However, the narrative's latter sections and overall lack of class consciousness make it fall short of its potential. This book will likely resonate with readers who appreciate raw, introspective narratives and those who relate to Tendler’s experiences. Compelling and beautifully written in parts, “Men Have Called Her Crazy” ultimately lacked the cohesion and depth needed to make it a standout memoir in my mind. 

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate raw, introspective narratives, Admirers of Stream-of-Consciousness Writing Styles, Those Interested in Exploring Gender Dynamics and Trauma, Fans of Jennette McCurdy’s “I’m Glad My Mom Died.”

🔑 Key Themes: Mental Health and Recovery, Feminine Solidarity, Good Girl Complex and Control Issues, Gender Dynamics and Trauma, Self-Discovery and Personal Growth.

Thank you to the publisher for the gifted ARC and final copy!

In her debut novel "But How Are You, Really?", Ella Dawson crafts a poignant and heartfelt narrative that delves deep into the complexities of a queer millennial’s journey toward self-acceptance and healing. The story centers around Charlotte Thorne, a bisexual artist grappling with the harsh realities of adulthood, an abusive past relationship, and the daunting invitation to her five-year college reunion at Hein University.

Charlotte's life is far from what she envisioned. Estranged from her parents and stuck in a dead-end job working for a wealthy egomaniac, she is a portrait of struggle and resilience. Dawson masterfully portrays Charlotte’s internal battle, highlighting her financial insecurities and the constant façade she maintains to appear "fine." This struggle is beautifully encapsulated in Charlotte’s introspective moments, such as when she reflects on her dissociation and isolation: “How long had it been since she felt present in her own life, alert and exposed and wanting?”

One of the most powerful aspects of the novel is Charlotte’s intricate relationship with her ex-boyfriend Ben. Through their history, Dawson provides a stark depiction of intimate partner abuse, detailing the manipulative tactics like love bombing that Ben employed. Charlotte’s learned self-isolation from this toxic relationship serves as a powerful commentary on the long-lasting impact of abuse. Yet, this novel is not defined by Charlotte’s trauma but rather by her journey towards healing.

Reece, the endearing "one that got away," emerges as a beacon of hope and potential for rekindled romance. His character, a sexy golden retriever love interest, brings an element of warmth and sobriety to the story. His journey through alcohol abuse recovery adds a layer of depth and representation to the narrative, illustrating that recovery and love can coexist. The delicious tension and unresolved feelings between Charlotte and Reece provide a hopeful contrast to her painful past.

Central to Charlotte’s healing process is her queer chosen family. The support group they form for those with dead or disappointing parents, known as the 3Ds, becomes a source of strength and community care for Charlotte. Dawson’s depiction of this chosen family is tender and authentic, emphasizing the importance of found family in the queer experience: "Her friends helped her see that there was nothing weak about her grief, her resentment, or her fear," a line that beautifully underscores the novel’s theme of communal healing.

Dawson’s prose is both lyrical and evocative, yet remains grounded and accessible. She captures the raw emotions and inner turmoil of her characters with precision, making Charlotte’s experiences deeply relatable. The queer empowerment themes and class consciousness woven into the narrative add a rich layer of social commentary, making the story not only personal but also relevant to broader social issues.

"But How Are You, Really?" stands out as a queer millennial coming-of-age story that resonates deeply with its audience. Charlotte is a character who embodies the anxious, introspective, and ultimately resilient spirit of many young queer people today. Her journey from isolation to embracing community and self-love is both inspiring and empowering.

Ella Dawson has given us a novel that feels like a conversation with a close friend, one that leaves you feeling seen, hugged, and understood. For fans of Haley Jakobson’s "Old Enough" and all the "shy until you get to know them" bisexuals, this book is a must-read. It is a testament to the power of community, the courage to confront one’s past, and the hope for a brighter, more authentic future. Thank you, Ella, for this unforgettable story—I will be thinking about it for a long time.

📖 Recommended For: Enthusiasts of Queer Coming-of-Age Stories, Readers Interested in Themes of Healing from Trauma, Admirers of Character-Driven Narratives with Class-Consciousness, Fans of Haley Jakobson’s "Old Enough" and Queer Chosen Families Books.

🔑 Key Themes: Recovery from Intimate Partner Abuse, Class Consciousness and Financial Insecurity, Queer Identity and Bisexual Representation, Community Care and Self-Acceptance, The Journey Towards Healing From Trauma.

I loved this so much. There is nothing like hearing Miranda read her own work. The quality of her voice?? I'm obsessed. 

I listened to this on audio which I'm not great at processing and didn't take notes so will forgo a full review for now but I absolutely recommend this to queer or feminist readers, as well as lovers of women-versus-the void/unhinged FMC fiction. I will definitely be getting a physical copy so I can annotate the fuck out of it.

Love love love. Miranda July can do no wrong. 

Thank you to NetGalley and Algonquin for the eARC!

"Shae" by Mesha Maren is a poignant exploration of the intersection of poverty, teen pregnancy, medical trauma, and opioid addiction, set against the evocative backdrop of the American Rural South. Mesha Maren's novel follows the tumultuous life of Shae, a 16-year-old girl who becomes fixated on Cam, a fellow outcast. As Shae navigates her feelings for Cam, a transfemme teen, the narrative unfolds into a raw and compelling journey of love, struggle, and survival.

Shae and Cam’s relationship is the heart of the novel, marked by an intense connection and Shae’s compassionate yet confused adaptation to Cam’s transition. Maren’s portrayal of their bond is deeply moving, capturing the essence of youthful love complicated by the harsh realities of their lives. Shae’s acceptance of Cam is beautifully rendered, highlighting her deep-seated need for love and security, despite the overwhelming obstacles they face.

One of the most striking elements of "Shae" is its unflinching depiction of poverty and its ramifications. Maren paints a vivid picture of the relentless challenges faced by those living in poverty, particularly focusing on the neglect and exploitation experienced by low-wage workers. The novel delves into the chaos of parenting in such conditions, especially poignant as Shae herself is still a child grappling with the responsibilities of motherhood. Her love for her daughter Eva is palpable, yet overshadowed by the haze of her addiction, a tragic consequence of the pervasive opioid epidemic.

Maren’s writing shines in its atmospheric evocation of the Rural South. The descriptions of pine trees, dirt roads, and cicadas immerse the reader in Shae’s world, enhancing the narrative’s authenticity. However, as Shae’s addiction deepens, the narrative begins to lose focus, mirroring her descent into self-destruction. This narrative choice underscores the devastating grip of substance abuse, illustrating how it can spiral out of control, particularly in the absence of financial resources and adequate support systems. Maren’s portrayal of Shae’s addiction is both compassionate and harrowing, providing a sobering look at the impact of the opioid crisis.

The novel is not without its flaws. The ending, while powerful, leaves the reader with a sense of unresolved tension as Shae’s life continues to unravel. Despite this, Shae’s strength and her unwavering sense of self shine through, making her a memorable and compelling protagonist. Her journey, marked by moments of love, despair, and resilience, is a testament to the human capacity to endure, even in the face of overwhelming adversity.

"Shae" is a vital read, offering a deeply human perspective on issues that are often marginalized or misunderstood. It is a story of love and survival, of the desperate lengths people go to for a semblance of security and the devastating consequences of systemic neglect. Maren’s novel is a heart-wrenching yet essential exploration of the complexities of life in poverty, particularly through the lens of those most vulnerable. For readers interested in stories that highlight political liberation themes and diverse representation, "Shae" is a compelling and necessary addition to your reading list.

📖 Recommended For: Readers drawn to stories of resilience in the face of adversity, fans of gritty portrayals of poverty and addiction, supporters of LGBTQ+ narratives, enthusiasts of contemporary Southern fiction, and those interested in the impact of the opioid crisis on marginalized communities.

🔑 Key Themes: Intersection of Poverty and Teen Pregnancy, Medical Trauma and Opioid Addiction, LGBTQ+ Identity and Transfemme Experiences, The Harsh Realities of Low-Wage Labor, The Struggles of Young Motherhood.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

“Fire Exit” by Morgan Talty is a nuanced exploration of family, grief, memory, and inheritance in Indigenous culture, as seen through the eyes of Charles, a white man raised on an Indigenous reservation by Frederick, an Indigenous man. Charles, who has escaped the grips of alcoholism, leads a relatively stable sober life until his estranged mother re-enters his life with advancing memory loss, prompting him to consider reconnecting with his estranged daughter, Elizabeth, who doesn’t even know they are related. 

Talty’s novel is a delicate portrayal of estrangement, substance abuse, and intergenerational trauma within Indigenous communities. Through Charles’s journey, Talty unpacks the complexities of blood quantum laws and their detrimental impact on Indigenous identities, shedding light on how colonialism has disrupted concepts of belonging. As Charles grapples with his mother's declining memory, she often confuses him with Frederick, whose death in a hunting accident continues to haunt Charles. This confusion adds a layer of poignancy to the narrative, emphasizing themes of identity and memory.

Talty’s writing shines in his depiction of the intersections of class, Indigeneity, and the epidemic of substance abuse affecting almost every character. The novel’s strength lies in its exploration of Indigenous mental illness and familial dysfunction. Talty’s characters, particularly Charles, navigate the painful terrain of connecting with and feeling empowered by identities and the legacies they will leave behind.

However, the novel’s execution leaves much to be desired. While the themes are compelling, the prose is plain and unengaging. Charles, the protagonist, never fully takes shape, remaining formless even by the novel’s end. The narrative’s flow and pacing are disjointed, moving back and forth in time without maintaining a cohesive tempo. This, coupled with the bifurcated focus on Charles’s relationships with his mother and daughter, gives the sense of two separate novels awkwardly interwoven. Despite thematic overlaps, the abrupt shifts between these relationships create a jarring reading experience.

One of the most problematic aspects of the book is the random single use of the R slur towards the end. This derogatory term is spoken by Elizabeth, Charles’s daughter, and it’s one of her few lines in the entire book. The use of this slur felt unnecessary and ableist, lacking proper narrative context and severely detracting from any positive impact the novel might have had. This choice by the author overshadowed the entire narrative, making it a book I am unlikely to recommend.

In conclusion, while “Fire Exit” tackles important themes, its execution falters due to unremarkable prose, disjointed pacing, and an inexplicable use of ableist language. Talty’s exploration of Indigenous identities, mental health, and family dynamics is commendable, but these merits are overshadowed by the novel’s shortcomings. For readers deeply invested in stories about Indigenous experiences, there may be elements of value, but overall, this book misses the mark for a cohesive and respectful narrative.

"Practicing Liberation: Transformative Strategies for Collective Healing & Systems Change," edited by Tessa Hicks Peterson and Hala Khouri, is a powerful collection of abolitionist and transformative justice essays that delve into themes of healing justice, decolonialism, community care, and collective liberation. This anthology is a clarion call to those involved in social justice movements, offering a comprehensive guide to addressing burnout and fostering sustainable activism.

One of the most striking aspects of this collection is its unwavering commitment to the principle that "we keep each other safe." The essays collectively emphasize that self-care is not a selfish act but a crucial component of community care. By taking care of ourselves, we are better equipped to support and nurture our communities. This concept is especially important for leaders of organizations and collectives, who are provided with practical advice on structuring their communities in a manner that prioritizes healing justice.

These authors fiercely argue against the capitalist and productivity-driven mindset that often pervades social justice work. Instead, they advocate for rest as a form of resistance, challenging the notion that constant productivity is necessary for meaningful change. This perspective is refreshing and necessary, especially in a society that often glorifies overwork and burnout.

A significant strength of this collection is its trauma-informed approach. Each essay underscores the importance of recognizing and addressing personal trauma to prevent its perpetuation in activist spaces. The contributors highlight the need for imagination and creativity in enacting change, viewing these as essential skills for building a more just and equitable world.

Several essays explore the somatic impact of trauma and stress, making the case that the personal is indeed political. By bringing somatics and embodiment into activist conversations, the anthology sheds light on the intersection of oppression and chronic stress. This approach not only enriches the discourse but also provides practical tools for activists to care for their bodies and minds amidst the rigors of social justice work.

Harm reduction and transformative justice are central themes in many of the essays. The contributors draw on the work of bell hooks and adrienne maree brown to discuss the differences between calling in and calling out, and how harm can be transformed rather than exacerbated. The essays explore the benefits of affinity spaces versus integrated spaces in harm reduction processes, underscoring the necessity of collective accountability in achieving collective liberation.

One standout essay, "Breath. Fugitivity. Wild Horses: Black Feminist Strategies for Healing in a Predatory Empire" by Valerie Thomas, offers an insightful exploration of anti-Black racism, feminism, and the neurophysiology of trauma. Thomas expertly dissects the phenomenon of Complex Racial Trauma within education, providing a compelling analysis that is both informative and deeply moving.

Overall, "Practicing Liberation" is a must-read for fans of bell hooks and adrienne maree brown, as well as anyone committed to social justice and transformative change. The essays offer actionable strategies for practicing transformative justice and harm reduction in various contexts, making this collection a valuable resource for activists, organizers, and community leaders. With its rich insights and practical advice, "Practicing Liberation" earns a solid four out of five stars.

📖 Recommended For: Advocates of Transformative Justice, Readers Engaged in Social Justice Movements, Admirers of Healing Justice and Community Care Practices, Fans of bell hooks and adrienne maree brown.

🔑 Key Themes: Collective Liberation and Trauma-Informed Approaches, Self-Care as Community Care, Somatic Healing and Embodiment, Harm Reduction and Collective Accountability.

And Then She Fell by Alicia Elliott is a strikingly sharp and poignant novel that masterfully explores the intersection of patriarchy, anti-Indigenous racism, and psychological horror. From the very first pages, Elliott's prose captivates with its precision and depth, bringing to light the pervasive and painful realities faced by Indigenous communities.

Elliott's depiction of the intersectionality of oppressive systems is both spot-on and unsettling. The protagonist, Alice, navigates a world where colonial concepts of femininity and patriarchal pressures weigh heavily on her, reflecting a profound critique of how deeply these ideas are ingrained in society. 

The novel also delves into the horrors of assimilation and the loss of cultural heritage. Alice's experience of not speaking her native language, and the broader implications of this loss, highlights the painful consequences of enforced assimilation. This theme is poignantly reflected in the psychological horror elements of the story, where everything appears normal until it suddenly isn't, a trope Elliott employs to great effect.

Alice's journey is also one of motherhood under the oppressive standards of white supremacy. The double burden she carries, trying to be a "good mother" under these impossible standards, is depicted with heartbreaking clarity. Elliott's commentary on how society fails mothers is particularly powerful.

The book's horror elements are intricately tied to Alice's mental state, her dissociation, and her struggles with substance abuse. Elliott's portrayal of these themes is both empathetic and harrowing, shedding light on how substance abuse is often a coping mechanism in the face of systemic racism, personal trauma, and a lack of other resources.

Elliott's anticolonial critique shines through in her reflections on storytelling, art, and community. She skillfully illustrates the power and difficulty of storytelling in Indigenous cultures, while also critiquing the commodification of art under capitalism. The novel’s anticapitalist themes are particularly striking, especially in the context of mental illness, grief, and their lack of productivity in a capitalist society.

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is its exploration of ancestral knowledge and community care. The narrative's focus on the importance of community, especially for new parents, is beautifully depicted, offering a powerful counterpoint to the isolating effects of modern society. Elliott’s thoughts on community care are wonderfully summed up by the book's final lines: “The most important thing wasn't that she'd fallen. The most important thing was that she'd been caught. That she had allowed herself to be caught.”

Despite the novel’s many strengths, the ending leaves a slight sense of brusqueness. The transition from Alice's last hallucinatory moments to the final resolution felt a bit jarring. A brief return to Alice's perspective, offering a moment of reflection or closure, would have provided a more satisfying conclusion.

Overall, And Then She Fell is a stellar work that balances sharp social critiques with deeply personal narratives. Alicia Elliott’s exploration of anticolonial and antiracist themes, psychological horror, and the struggles of motherhood is both powerful and profoundly moving. This novel is a testament to the resilience and strength of Indigenous femmes, and a call to recognize and dismantle the oppressive systems that continue to impact their lives.

📖 Recommended For: Enthusiasts of Intersectional Feminist Prose, Readers Interested in Anti-Colonial and Anti-Racist Themes, Admirers of Psychological Horror with Social Commentary, Fans of Netflix’s film “His House” and Lena Waithe’s “Them” anthology.

🔑 Key Themes: Patriarchy and Anti-Indigenous Racism, Cultural Erasure and Assimilation, The Struggles of Motherhood and Identity, Community Care and Ancestral Knowledge, The Psychological Toll of Colonial Oppression.

A few years ago, I fell in love with Sarah Rose Etter’s writing through her first novel, “The Book of X.” Her second book absolutely did not fail to disappoint. I might have to rebrand myself as the “Chelsea Bieker AND Sarah Rose Etter Fan Club” now.

"Ripe" by Sarah Rose Etter is a haunting exploration of a woman's struggle against the overwhelming void of modern life, marked by dissociation, capitalist exploitation, and the decay of personal identity. Etter's lyrical prose and vivid metaphors illuminate the protagonist's internal battles and the broader socio-economic critiques embedded in this all-too-real narrative.

Cassie, our protagonist, navigates the treacherous waters of Silicon Valley's corporate culture while grappling with her fragmented identity and existential despair. Through her journey, we delve into themes of labor exploitation, the oppressive nature of capitalist demands, and the deep-seated emotional scars inflicted by both society and personal history.

Etter's writing is nothing short of mesmerizing. Her use of vivid, sometimes grotesque imagery to depict bodily disintegration and emotional turmoil is powerful and evocative. Etter’s razor sharp depiction of Cassie's inner world reflects our broader societal malaise, particularly the way technology has become a dissociative coping mechanism, stripping us of presence and connection to our bodies.

The book’s descent through the layers of the pomegranate metaphorically echoes Dante's circles of hell, illustrating Cassie’s journey through the myriad horrors of capitalist, technological, and societal pressures. This journey is beautifully mirrored in the narrative structure, making the reader feel as though they are peeling back layers of capitalism to reveal the rot at the core of whatever’s plaguing Cassie.

The novel is rich with symbolism. Pomegranates, often associated with fertility, life, and death in various mythologies, mirror Cassie’s journey through the dark realities of her life in Silicon Valley. The fruit's seeds, like drops of blood, evoke the visceral struggles and ethical compromises Cassie faces at work. The pomegranate motif juxtaposed with the decay and despair in Cassie’s world poignantly encapsulates the novel’s central themes. Additionally, the black holes and outer space references tie into the overarching theme of the void, both literally and metaphorically, representing the existential crises that pervade the story.

"Ripe" by Sarah Rose Etter is a profound and thought-provoking novel that tackles significant socio-economic issues through a deeply personal and poetic lens. It is a must-read for those interested in exploring the intersection of personal identity and societal pressures, especially within the context of late-stage capitalism. With its lyrical prose, rich symbolism, and incisive social critique, "Ripe" stands out as a powerful narrative of unhinged feminine rage and the struggle for authenticity in a dissociative world. Etter's work is a testament to the power of fiction to illuminate the most pressing issues of our time, making "Ripe" a valuable addition to contemporary literature. I can’t wait to see what Etter does next. 

📖 Recommended For: Fans of Lyrical and Symbolic Prose, Readers Interested in Socio-Economic Critiques, Admirers of Vivid and Grotesque Imagery, Enthusiasts of Ottessa Moshfegh’s "My Year of Rest and Relaxation" and Ling Ma’s "Severance."

🔑 Key Themes: Dissociation and Fragmented Identity, Capitalist Exploitation and Labor Struggles, The Decay of Personal Identity, The Intersection of Technology and Alienation, The Search for Authenticity Amid Societal Pressures.

 Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

Julia Armfield’s "Private Rites" immerses readers in an eerie, atmospheric blend of psychological horror and intricate family dynamics. From the opening chapter, the novel establishes a palpable tension and a deep sense of unease that only intensifies as the story unfolds. Armfield's prose is strikingly beautiful, luring readers into a world where every detail feels meticulously crafted to build suspense and foreboding.

The novel centers on the lives of three estranged sisters—Isla, Irene, and Agnes—who are drawn back to their family home following their father's death. Each sister is vividly characterized, their individual struggles and complex relationships with one another brought to life through Armfield’s deft storytelling. Isla, the therapist with self-destructive tendencies, Agnes, the reluctant heir, and Irene, grappling with her own past and present, form a triad of compelling and deeply flawed protagonists.

Armfield excels at creating a chilling atmosphere. The horror elements are subtle, often lurking just beneath the surface of the sisters’ interactions and memories. The recurring imagery of rain and floods adds to the sense of an impending environmental apocalypse, tying the personal tragedies of the sisters to a larger, almost biblical catastrophe.

However, the novel’s structure occasionally feels disjointed. The interludes set in the City, while beautifully written, initially seem like clumsy world-building dumps. As the story progresses, these sections start to make more sense, contributing to the dystopian setting, yet their integration could have been smoother. The alternating points of view within chapters can be jarring, shifting rapidly between the sisters and the City’s cryptic passages, sometimes causing confusion.

One of the novel’s strengths lies in its exploration of sisterhood and familial roles. The sisters are trapped in their childhood dynamics, unable to escape the roles imposed on them by their father and their shared history. Armfield delves into how unresolved family trauma shapes their identities and relationships, a central thesis that resonates deeply throughout the narrative.

Despite the atmospheric tension and strong character development, some elements of the plot remain frustratingly ambiguous.

The involvement of a religious cult, hinted at through various characters and plot points, never fully coalesces into a clear or satisfying explanation. The mystery surrounding Agnes’s mother and the cult’s apocalyptic intentions feel underdeveloped, leaving readers with more questions than answers.

This ambiguity, while intriguing, sometimes tips into confusion, detracting from the novel’s overall impact.

Nonetheless, Armfield’s ability to blend horror with a poignant examination of family dynamics makes "Private Rites" a compelling read. The environmental disaster backdrop and the sisters' struggle against their past and each other create a narrative that is both haunting and thought-provoking. The book’s final act,

particularly Isla’s sacrifice

, adds a layer of emotional depth and resolution that, despite the lingering ambiguities, brings a satisfying conclusion to the sisters’ tumultuous journey.

In conclusion, "Private Rites" is a beautifully written and deeply atmospheric novel that will appeal to fans of psychological horror and literary fiction. While it may not reach the same heights as Armfield’s previous work, "Our Wives Under the Sea", it remains a testament to her skill as a storyteller. With its rich prose and complex characters, it’s a novel that digs deep and forces the reader to think about love, loss, and how we can all keep going together. 

📖 Recommended For: Fans of Psychological Horror and Literary Fiction, Readers Fascinated by Complex Family Dynamics, Admirers of Atmospheric and Eerie Prose, Fans of Gillian Flynn’s Sharp Objects and the TV show “Succession.” 

🔑 Key Themes: Familial Trauma and Dysfunction, Psychological Horror and Supernatural Elements, The Impact of Environmental Catastrophe, Exploration of Sisterhood and Identity, The Weight of Grief and Memory.