A Book A Week

From an early age, we’re taught to fear the dark. Sure, most of us outgrow it, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t flick on my phone’s flashlight when navigating the darkened halls of my home—just in case. There’s a thrilling uncertainty in the night, where the darkness toys with our better judgment, daring us to see monsters in what daylight would reveal as perfectly ordinary. In her latest novel, Something in the Walls, Daisy Pearce preys on this universal fear, crafting a chilling tale of childhood nightmares, witchcraft, and the things that go bump in the night. 

Fresh out of school and with a wedding on the horizon, Mina is eager to take the next step in her life. With a degree in child psychology, she’s ready to put her studies to use, but with little hands-on experience, finding a job proves more complicated than she expected. After all, who would entrust their troubled child to a complete newcomer? Stuck in limbo, waiting for her career to take off and her marriage to Oscar to begin, Mina finds her only real outlet in attending a local bereavement group, where she continues to grieve the loss of her brother years after his passing.

It’s at one of these meetings that Mina meets journalist Sam, who offers her an unexpected opportunity. He’s chasing a story about thirteen-year-old Alice Webber, a girl who claims to be haunted by a witch. And she has the chilling stories and disturbing evidence to back it up. Her family is desperate for answers but lacks the means to hire a top expert. They can, however, afford Mina.

For Mina, the job is a chance to gain crucial experience. For Sam, it’s an opportunity to document a bizarre and unsettling case firsthand. But as Mina immerses herself in Alice’s world, she quickly realizes she may be in over her head. The girl’s symptoms are growing more disturbing by the day, and the deeper Mina digs, the more she begins to question whether Alice’s affliction is psychological...or something far more sinister.

I was instantly drawn into the eerie atmosphere of Something in the Walls. In the novel's opening, Pearce wisely employs a less-is-more approach, allowing the mere possibility of something sinister lurking beneath the surface to drive much of the suspense. I received an audiobook copy from the publisher, and Ana Clements’ narration hit all the right notes for this unsettling story.

The setup had all the makings of a classic horror tale: a small town with a dark history, a family struggling to find a logical explanation for their child’s strange behavior, and breadcrumb clues hinting at the true terror lurking beneath the surface (or, in this case, behind the walls). But as I ventured deeper into the novel, I found the horror’s impact diminishing. It’s a classic case of my imagination conjuring far more unsettling possibilities than what the story ultimately delivered.

Lulls in pacing and a glaring unresolved plot point further dampened the novel’s effectiveness. Yes, there’s plenty of creepiness to be found, and I seem to be in the minority of readers on this one. Still, Something in the Walls left me more intrigued by the possibility of discovering something lurking in the shadows than by what it actually revealed in the end.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 16)

There exists a profound connection between Southerners and religion, a bond deeply ingrained in the fabric of Southern culture. As a native of South Texas, my early years were shaped by regular Sunday masses and cherished memories forged within the embrace of various church events. Over time, my relationship with faith underwent a transformation, one marked by contemplating the inherent contradictions within the religion I was taught to embrace. Religion, while a potent ethical guide for many, has been exploited throughout history to serve personal gains and hidden agendas. In her latest novel, Midnight is the Darkest Hour, Ashley Winstead explores this complex interplay in a gripping Southern Gothic mystery that will captivate readers from start to finish.

The town of Bottom Springs in rural Louisiana epitomizes Southern religiosity. Pastor James Cornier, head of the Holy Fire Born Again church, isn't just a local religious figure; he is the de facto leader, enforcing his fundamentalist Christian beliefs upon the entire town. His daughter, Ruth, knows the weight of his teachings intimately, having lived her entire life under his authoritative rule, where a woman's role is confined to silence and obscurity.

Everett and his father were shunned for their lack of church attendance, becoming pariahs of Bottom Springs. Childhood friends Everett and Ruth share a dark secret from years past, vowing never to speak of it again, a vow that gradually eroded their friendship. When a human skull is discovered in the swamp, adorned with peculiar carvings Pastor Cornier deems occultic, rumors of the legendary "low man," a vampiric entity haunting the town for decades, resurface. Everett and Ruth join forces to investigate the skull's origins and protect their shared secret, unearthing sinister truths misaligned with the church's teachings in the process.

Midnight is the Darkest Hour unfolds as a meticulously plotted thriller, exploring themes of feminism, religion, and morality. The town of Bottom Springs comes to life through a cast of characters brimming with authenticity, each wrestling with their own perceptions of the world. Pastor Cornier, a sanctimonious figure casting a long shadow over the town and his daughter's life, embodies the type of self-righteous authority familiar to many churchgoers. Ruth's journey to forge her path, diverging from her father's prescribed vision, adds an ominous layer to the narrative. Flashbacks seamlessly interweave with the present-day mystery, offering tantalizing glimpses into unfolding events and hinting at more profound, shocking revelations.

Winstead masterfully introduces the specter of an otherworldly threat, enhancing the narrative with an air of macabre suspense. This element fuels the imagination, inviting readers to contemplate the lurking horrors beneath the surface. At its core, Midnight is the Darkest Hour is a tale of self-discovery and acceptance, exploring the evolving ideologies that serve as ethical compasses in our lives. The novel's gripping mystery, meticulously crafted plot, and well-drawn characters contribute to its resonant impact, making it a compelling read that lingers far beyond the final page.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 21)

Even though the spooky season has ended, my appetite for creepy books remains unabated. Jason Rekulak's Hidden Pictures generated quite a buzz when it hit the shelves last year. This thrilling work with a touch of horror captured readers' imaginations and secured a spot on my ever-expanding TBR list. Although it languished on my stack of library books for most of October, patiently awaiting my attention, I've finally found the time to dive into it. I'm even more happy to confirm that the excitement surrounding this book is entirely justified.

Mallory Quinn has hit rock bottom and is now determined to climb her way back up. She's successfully completed a rehab program, taking control of her drug addiction and resolving to lead a clean and honest life moving forward. With her recovery firmly on track, Mallory is now prepared to embark on the next phase of rebuilding her life: seeking stable employment. Her sponsor introduces her to a family needing a live-in nanny for their young son. This potential opportunity could be the perfect stepping stone for Mallory as she transitions into this new chapter of her life.

Ted and Caroline Maxwell approach the decision to hire Mallory with justifiable caution. They are well aware of her troubled past, and while they are empathetic to her desire for a fresh start, their primary concern is the safety of their five-year-old son, Teddy. Mallory, understanding the Maxwell's apprehensions, is eager to demonstrate her commitment to her own recovery and Teddy's well-being. She willingly agrees to undergo random drug testing at their discretion and assures them that her intentions are solely focused on what is best for their son. Ultimately, Teddy himself plays a pivotal role in the decision, forming an instant connection with Mallory.

Teddy, typically a sweet and introverted child known for filling his sketchpad with innocent childhood drawings, surprises everyone when he suddenly creates a much darker image – a man dragging a lifeless woman's body in a forest. As time passes, his drawings become shockingly realistic and disturbing, defying the artistic abilities expected of a child his age. The origins of these macabre creations puzzle Mallory, who fears their implications. Yet, her utmost priority is safeguarding Teddy. She is committed to unraveling the mystery that shrouds these unsettling images and ensuring Teddy's safety before it's too late.

In Hidden Pictures, Jason Rekulak reimagines classic horror tropes, giving readers a fresh perspective on the genre. While I typically favor audiobooks, this novel shines best in its physical form. This preference arises from Rekulak's innovative use of the child's drawings to enhance the narrative. As each new image is revealed, it is presented in full on the page, allowing readers to share in the protagonist's shock and uncertainty. The supernatural elements combine with an unreliable narrator who is refreshingly aware of just how unreliable she must seem. I found myself utterly engrossed in the pages of this book, unable to stop reading until I reached its thrilling conclusion.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 73)

“End of watch is what they call it, but Hodges himself has found it impossible to give up watching"

I'm an avid reader, so it's not uncommon for a few books to slip through the cracks. In anticipation of Stephen King's latest release, Holly, which came out earlier this month, I had a realization—I had missed reading End of Watch, the final installment in the Bill Hodges Trilogy, and the third book featuring the character Holly Gibney. It's a bit puzzling, considering I had already read the first two books and also enjoyed The Outsider and If It Bleeds. Somehow, I managed to overlook this particular story. Determined to correct this oversight, I promptly borrowed End of Watch from my local library. I can confidently say it provides a satisfying conclusion to the narrative that commenced with Mr. Mercedes.

Brady Hartsfield, the deranged mastermind behind the horrifying Mercedes Massacre, has languished in a vegetative state ever since his nefarious plans to bomb a massive concert were thwarted by the unlikely heroes Bill Hodges and Holly Gibney. Holly, in particular, is the one responsible for delivering blows to his head that left him seemingly devoid of cognitive function. Hodges, with his keen instincts, refuses to be deceived. He recognizes true evil when encountering it and remains convinced that the monster is still lurking "in there" somewhere within Hartsfield. The vacant stares and the wheelchair-bound existence do little to convince him otherwise.

Hodges hasn't quite settled into retirement. The cop in him never truly fades. Even in his new role as a private detective, he finds himself yearning for the thrill of the chase. When his former partner calls upon him and Holly to investigate a suicide victim connected to the original Mercedes case, Hodges is chilled by what he discovers. While the police perceive it as a straightforward, self-inflicted death, Hodges cannot shake the gnawing suspicion that Hartsfield may somehow be linked to this tragedy. Could it be possible that the malevolent presence is orchestrating terror from the confines of his hospital bed?

I've always admired how Stephen King used the first two books in the Bill Hodges series to illustrate that true horror can exist in the real world. Instead of relying on supernatural monsters, these stories centered around an ordinary man determined to unleash evil upon the world. It was a chilling departure from King's usual style and deepened my appreciation for his storytelling skills.

End of Watch takes a slightly different tone from the first two books. While it continues to explore profound themes like the battle between good and evil and the struggle to let go of one's past, King introduces a new element to the narrative. Without giving away too much, a supernatural aspect is woven into the story, adding an eerie new layer to the tale. If I had read this book in its intended sequence within the series, I might have found this shift into the realm of fantasy somewhat unexpected. It arrives without a clear explanation, requiring readers to simply accept it and enjoy the ride. However, when considered within the broader context of this literary world, including the newer books featuring Holly, the introduction of the supernatural element begins to make more sense.

Regardless of the subject matter, End of Watch is a fitting conclusion to the Bill Hodges series. It kept me engrossed in its pages, and I was apprehensive about what terrors would unfold right up to the very end.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 61)

My summer reading has been veering more into the horror side of things recently. I usually try to exclusively read creepy books closer to Halloween, but they've been really hitting the spot this month. One of my favorite spooky reads of the past several years is Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. That story combined a gothic romance with supernatural elements making for a memorable and engrossing read. On the heels of a breakout week at the theatrical box office thanks to "Barbenheimer", it feels serendipitous that Moreno-Garcia's latest effort be set amongst Mexico's film industry. Silver Nitrate, which I received from Moreno-Garcia's publisher, sees the author write an homage to a country's cultural contribution with a suspenseful, magical bend. 

The film industry in Mexico City in the 90s is something of a boy's club. Yes, Montseratt's talents as an audio engineer are undeniable, but the industry at large barely tolerates her, let alone celebrates her skills. She's getting some work, but not enough to financially support herself. As if her troubles at work weren't enough, Montseratt worries constantly about her sister who has cancer. Between the demanding hours caring for her family and the grueling schedule, she keeps to churn out enough film to make ends meet, Montseratt is at her wit's end. 

Things take a turn when Tristán, an aging soap star who happens to be Montseratt's best friend/crush, invites her to dinner with his elderly neighbor. It is revealed that the neighbor is none other than Alberto Urueta, the legendary director of some of Mexican cinema's most revered horror films of the 50s. As the trio talks, Urueta reveals that his only regret from his career is not finishing his final film. The unfinished picture is a legend in and of itself, one that both Tristán and Montseratt want to help bring to light. All they have to do is complete some of the dialogue, a task that Montserrat seems perfectly suited to. As they set out to complete the work, the true nature of the film is revealed, one that explains why the movie may be best left incomplete. 

I have to admit that I wanted to enjoy this book a lot more than I actually did. The premise of a mysterious film that contains otherworldly powers is instantly intriguing. There's only one problem, it took forever to get that hook set up. I'm certain this is just a case of the book not matching my own personal sensibilities, but I kept getting distracted during the opening portion of the work. The setup and the descriptions of the character's various traits just didn't really capture my attention. Once the supernatural element was revealed, the story found a decent momentum. Again, I've read mostly positive reviews of this book, so I seem to be in the minority of reviewers with this opinion. To me, though, Siver Nitrate never truly captures the same sense of magic that Mexican Gothic did. There are plenty of cool moments of revived dead, classic film nods, and an antagonist that is truly wicked. For me, that combined with the early pacing issues makes for a middle-of-the-road read. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 42)

Does the time of year influence the books that you read? I've always been a mood reader, motivated to read whichever title strikes my fancy at any given moment. That said, my reading preferences also shift with the seasons. Summertime is filled with fast-paced thrillers, while I gravitate toward literary fiction and non-fiction in the fall. I try to fill October with spooky-themed reads, and I can't resist a holiday-themed book in December. I guess it is safe to say that I'm a mix between both mood and seasonal. This week I was in the mood for something with a twinge of horror in it. Simone St. James's The Book of Cold Cases seemed like the perfect candidate. Her previous two books The Broken Girls and The Sun Down Motel both managed to thrill and frighten me, so I had high hopes for her latest effort. 

In 1977 the quiet town of Claire Lake, Oregon was rocked by a horrific killing spree. The Lady Killer Murders, as the two homicides became known, were unique in that the witnesses of the crimes stated that they were committed by a mysterious woman. In both cases, a long-haired individual dressed in a trenchcoat stepped forward and shot the victims at point-blank range. The list of potential suspects in the small town was short. Beth Greer, the twenty-three-year-old heiress to a family fortune, fit the bill as the most likely perpetrator of the crimes. She went to a lengthy trial that saw her acquitted of all charges. The court of public opinion, however, never forgave her for her alleged misdeeds. 

Flash forward to 2017. Shea Collins toils away at her day job as a receptionist at a clinic. She never thought this would be the life she lived, but it pays the bills. It is after hours when Shea truly has the time to follow her passion. She runs the true crime website, The Book of Cold Cases. Her zealous obsession with true crime stems from her own childhood trauma, a past that saw her escape from the hands of an abductor. These days, she works tirelessly to shed a light on those cases that time has long forgotten. Chance puts her in the presence of Beth Greer, the only suspect in one of the most notorious cold cases in the area. Beth has notoriously stayed quiet about that time but surprisingly agrees to Shea's request for an interview. As Shea begins to dive into Beth's past, she can't help but feel a sense of unease. Could Beth truly be the murderer that got away, or is something more sinister at play?

As with her previous books, Simone St. James imbues every page of The Book of Cold Cases with a sense of dread and unease. The book alternates between past and present, slowly revealing the truth behind the murders being investigated. St. James's ability to place the reader into the world she conjures remains unparalleled. The gothic atmosphere in this book is palpable. I was instantly drawn to the idea of a true-crime investigator digging into a cold case and found that the book worked best when focusing on the investigation. Supernatural and haunted elements have become a kind of signature for St. James, though I found them to be more unnecessary to this story than I have when reading her other books. The characters and their story were tense enough to hold my attention, and the overtly supernatural occurrences were more of a distraction than anything else. That being said, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy reading this one. I'm a sucker for a mystery, and The Book of Cold Cases more than satisfied my hunger for a head-scratcher. I only wish the ghost story was as intriguing. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 17)

"I don't mean to scare you, but sometimes a scare is the only lesson that works."

For nearly half a century, author Stephen King has delighted readers with his particular brand of horror. I've been enjoying his books for as long as I could stomach them. Some of his more nefarious creations (I'm looking at you, Pennywise) scared me when I read them and have frightened me ever since. His novel Later has been waiting on my shelf for nearly a year. Be it my usual procrastination or perhaps a hesitance to submit myself to the kind of terror only Stephen King can provide, I've waited until I had the perfect moment to read it. Cold weather and the seasonal sickness that comes with it meant I finally had ample time to read it over the weekend. 

Young Jaime Conklin has a secret, something only he and his single mother know about. His mother has enough struggles to worry about without Jaime's secret. She longs for him to just be normal. But Jaime is anything but ordinary. You see, Jaime can see dead people. When he first revealed this gift to his mother, she was skeptical, but Jamie knows things that he wouldn't otherwise know. Only by communicating with the dead is he able to glean such information. For better or worse, the boy has had to learn to live with this curious ability.

Jaime is pretty used to seeing dead people now. At least, he's as used to it as one could be considering the abnormality of it all. He still gets jarred a bit when he sees the battered remains of someone who met their demise in a particularly gruesome method, but he's come to accept his ability for what it is. Jaime has learned to harness his gift to do good for others. He helps a widower recover jewelry from his late wife, he helps a late author reveal the final installment in his anticipated series, and now he's about to help the NYPD try to stop a murderer from continuing his spree from beyond the grave. For all of his good intentions, however, nothing can prepare Jaime for the darkness that he's about to unleash. 

Every new novel we get from Stephen King seems like a gift to the world. Later is no exception. It is a testament to his mastery as an author that King continues to produce fiction that thrills and delights as well or even better than he did decades ago. The power of King's writing has always rested in his penchant for crafting deeply developed characters amongst the wild scenarios that he places them in. The coming-of-age elements that permeate this novel only help to ground the young main character into the more supernatural events that unfold. In that way, Later plays like a cross between The Sixth Sense and The Wonder Years. At a fairly brief couple hundred pages, the novel expertly balances between both building the character and thrilling the reader. It comes together into a novel that is as unputdownable as it is emotionally satisfying. King continues to fire on all cylinders, gifting us with the privilege to experience storytelling as only he can convey. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2022, 51)

"Guilt is a little like grief. A cancer of the soul. They both hollow you out from the inside."

The rural community of Chapel Croft is a town haunted by its past. Five hundred years ago several Protestant martyrs, including young girls, were burned at the stake in a religious purge. Locals still commemorate that horrific history by constructing a monument to them and leaving twig dolls around town, gifts for the burning girls. The more recent history of the city is no less tragic. Around thirty years ago, two teenage girls disappeared without a trace. Yes, Chapel Croft is no stranger to misfortune. It is the kind of place where everyone knows everyone else and all of their business. At the center of this community lies the church, a parish that has recently faced a tragedy of its own. After years of serving the town and living as part of the community, the town vicar has committed suicide. 

Reverend Jack Brooks is no stranger to tragedy. In fact, it was a tragedy at her previous inner-city parish that prompted her reassignment to quiet Chapel Croft. Relocating herself and her teenage daughter Flo isn't easy, but she's hopeful that a new town will bring the opportunity for a fresh start. Right out of the gate, however, Jack is greeted by a foreboding welcome at the front door of the ramshackle cottage she will call home. As Jack and her daughter integrate into the town, they both begin to experience reminders of the town's torrid history, figurative and literal ghosts of the past. In the coming days, the pair will be forced to reckon with not only the history of their new home town but the personal secrets they harbor as well. 

"But there is nothing covered up that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known. Accordingly, whatever you have said in the dark will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in the inner rooms will be proclaimed upon the housetops."-Luke 12:2-3

In The Burning Girls, C.J. Tudor deftly explores religion, parenthood, trauma, and grief, all packaged in the guise of a supernatural thriller. I've enjoyed each of her works since her debut novel The Chalk Man, so I was happy to accept a copy of this latest novel from her publisher. That first book has been my favorite of her three published works, but this newest easily surmounts that one to take the top place. There is a richness to the dialogue between mother and daughter, a sense of normalcy and reality that perfectly balances with the supernatural horror elements. The history of the town imbues the story with the depth of a real place. I couldn't help but keep reading. I just had to learn more about these characters and this place. 

Tudor is no stranger to balancing multiple perspectives in her writing, and The Burning Girls sees her present the story through a mother, a daughter, and one other character whose identity and motivations remain a mystery for the majority of the book. With each viewpoint, we gain a clearer portrait of what has occurred in this town and where this story is headed. The three points converge in a way that both thrills and satisfies. The best novels capture your attention as you read, but also linger in your mind long after you finish the final page. The Burning Girls is that kind of novel. Whether you're looking for a thoughtful meditation on religion, a harrowing story of a mother and daughter learning to live and love each other, or a "can't put down" thriller that keeps you reading into all hours of the night, you'll find what you're looking for in this book. The Burning Girls is the best novel C.J. Tudor has written thus far and has me brimming with excitement for whatever tale she conjures up next. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 7)

It has been a while since I truly could not wait to get my hands on a book. I think back to the days of waiting for the next Harry Potter novel to publish, grabbing up a copy at midnight, and breathlessly reading into the early morning. That's the level of anticipation with which I approached Simone St. James' latest novel The Sun Down Motel. You see, The Broken Girls, her previous release, was THE book of 2018 for me. Something about combining a cold case mystery with a dash of supernatural horror entranced me to no end. Even as I write this review, I can't escape the spell that novel cast upon me. Seriously, read The Broken Girls! Anyway, I've been anxiously awaiting the release of this novel pretty much since finishing her last. I was fortunate enough to be provided with an advanced copy of the novel from the publisher (I sought out this review copy, something I rarely do!) and am pleased to say that I thoroughly enjoyed this book too.

The small town of Fell, NY is beyond the place that would be considered "off the beaten path". It is the kind of place that only the locals seem to truly be aware of. Aside from the local college, there isn't really anything else to draw someone to stay. As such, the local Sun Down Motel has seen better days. The year is 1982, and the motel is only drawing drifters and locals who are up to no good. Despite the ramshackle appearance and questionable occupants, Viv Delaney sees the motel as the ideal stepping stone to her future aspirations. If she can just hold down a job as a night clerk for a few months, she'll have enough saved to make the big move to NYC.

In the present day, the old motel is still standing and operating, a little more run-down than before, but a fixture of the town nonetheless. Looking for a reason to escape her life, especially after her mother succumbed to cancer, Carly decides to follow in the footsteps of her aunt Vivian and move out to Fell. Decades ago, Viv disappeared without a trace. The mystery of her vanishing has haunted Carly's family ever since. Determined to retrace Viv's steps, Carly takes on the same job as a night clerk and does some amateur detective work of her own.

Like The Broken Girls, The Sun Down Motel finds great success in immersing the reader in its sense of place. The titular motel is presented in such detail that I could feel myself getting lost in its decaying surroundings. St. James writes alternating chapters of past and present day, the two taking on a mirror-like quality as Carly retraces the journey of Viv all those years ago. At times, I did find myself jumping back to the beginning of the chapters to remind myself which time period/perspective I was in. The two girls' stories are so similar that it did get a bit tedious to keep track of who I was reading about. Still, I eagerly raced through each page to see what would happen next. Ultimately, The Sun Down Motel is a novel about haunting. The place is haunted by the ghosts of the town's horrific past, and Carly is haunted by the questions surrounding her aunt's disappearance. The two threads come together in a beautiful, albeit a bit rushed, conclusion that left me stunned at the sheer magnitude of emotions I was feeling. Simone St. James has a way of leaving me haunted by what I experienced at the end of her works to the point that I'll find myself reflecting on them for days and weeks after finishing. Count this one as another win from an author who is quickly becoming one of my favorites.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2020, 7)

"Missing is limbo. You're stranded; in a strange, bleak place where hope glimmers faintly at the horizon and misery and despair circle like vultures."

C.J. Tudor's writing flew on to my radar a couple years ago. I was enamored by the review copy of her debut novel, The Chalk Man. She followed it up with another stellar standalone novel The Hiding Place and turned her books into instant "must-reads" for me. Enter her latest novel The Other People. Once again, I graciously accepted a copy from the publisher and dove in with heightened anticipation. There's a reason I'm such a proponent of Tudor's work, and this latest novel is no exception.

How's this for a hook? Gabe is driving home from work one evening when he's stopped behind a beat-up clunker of a vehicle. In the rear window, he can just make out the face of a young child, a girl. Recognition overcomes Gabe's mind as he realizes the girl in the car is his daughter Izzy. He has to be imagining things. Izzy is home with her mother. Just as his mind is about to move past what must be an eerie coincidence, Gabe is thrust into full-on panic. Through the dust of the vehicle's window, the little girl mouths the word "Daddy."

With that opening setup, Tudor immediately grasped my attention. This brilliant premise allows the structural gymnastics that follow to be a little more palatable. The Other People follows three main perspectives. There's Gabe, desperately searching the interstates for his long lost daughter, Katie, the diner waitress who frequently serves Gabe, and Fran and her daughter, running from the people who seem so keen on finding them. Tudor deftly shuffles between the trilogy of characters while also bouncing between past and present day. In less skilled hands, this would become a narrative jumble, but in Tudor's hands, it is a winding thrill ride to the shocking convergence of the three threads.

If there's a weak link to the story, it may be the supernatural element that exists. For fear of spoiling, I won't go into details, but I found the more fantastic plot points to slightly detract from the driving action. While effective on their own accord, I don't feel like these elements were fleshed out enough to be truly pivotal to the story. That being said, all of Tudor's work has been the kind that requires some suspension of disbelief (its all fiction after all), so I'd be lying if I said this took away too much from my enjoyment. As with her previous two novels, The Other People by C.J. Tudor is a highly original thriller that will have the pages turning and your mind escaping into a brilliantly conceived world. This is the kind of escapism reading we are going to need in these trying times, and Tudor is the perfect author to deliver. Go ahead and add this to your "to be read" list. I'll be anxiously awaiting her next novel in the meantime.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2020, 6)

"Places have secrets too, I think. Like people. You just need to dig. In land, in life, in a man's soul."

Last year, I read and enjoyed C.J. Tudor's debut novel The Chalk Man. That book weaved alternating time periods and strong characters into a suspenseful and enthralling mystery. The Chalk Man immediately became one of my favorite reads of 2018 and left me anxiously waiting to read whatever Tudor came up with next. When her publisher offered me a copy of her next novel, The Hiding Place, I eagerly jumped on the chance to read it.

Joe Thorne is happy to be getting a fresh start. He struggles with alcohol, is a gambling addict, and was recently dismissed from his teaching job in a shroud of personal and professional disgrace. As he looks to create a new beginning for himself, Joe turns to the place where everything started last time. He never thought he'd come back to his hometown of Arnhill, but here he is. He's secured a teaching position at the same school he attended. The Arnhill Academy was so eager to find a teacher that they skimmed over most of Joe's checkered past. For better or worse, Joe is starting over.

Joe's predecessor at the academy was an unassuming single mother who shocked the town when she brutally murdered her young son and shot herself. Now Joe has taken her job and moved into the same cottage where the gruesome crime occurred. He's optimistic about this fresh shot at life. He's already stopped a bully from picking on a student, is getting along with his co-workers, and seems to be on the path to happiness. Life has other plans. The longer he stays in the town, the more he's realizing that things aren't as different as he hoped. In fact, the dark history of Arnhill that destroyed his life years ago seems to be repeating itself.

The Hiding Place, C.J. Tudor's sophomore novel sees the author's brilliant writing veer into much darker territory. While this novel shares many of the same themes as Tudor's debut (childhood trauma, community culture in a small town, etc.) it really pushes the author into new territory. One climactic flashback scene, in particular, left me emotionally shaken. Tudor deftly balances these bleak scenes with brisk pacing, detailed character development, and wit that surfaces at all the right moments. As she did in The Chalk Man, Tudor again employs flashbacks to both provide depth and backstory and to ramp up the suspense. Even a twist that seemed almost too familiar for this longtime fan of Stephen King couldn't detract from my overall satisfaction with this book. With The Hiding Place, C.J. Tudor proves that The Chalk Man was no fluke. She recently tweeted that her next novel is complete, and I'll be the first in line to give it a read!

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2019, 6)