Book Review: The Unquiet

As I read, I kept waiting for The Unquiet to improve. It has an interesting premise and an engaging narrator. But issues with plot, characterization and plausibility torpedo the novel. The Unquiet’s central theme of the ghost seeking vengeance is very common in both YA and adult literature. It’s common because we as readers enjoy experiencing it over and over again. But it's employed predictably and without sufficient logic, the ubiquity of the trope makes the book that much more disappointing.

Rinn, who suffers from bipolar disorder, and her mother move back to her mother’s hometown in small town Ohio.  They are dealing with the destruction that her illness has wrought in the lives of her and her family. Almost immediately, Rinn is embroiled in the mystery of Anneliese, a ghost who supposedly haunts a “tunnel” like hallway that connects a half-built pool to the rest of the high school school. There are some areas where the novel succeeds. The Unquiet is an interesting exploration of a teen struggling with bipolar disorder,  yet at times the descriptions of her manic episodes feel too generic. The depiction of Rinn’s relationships with her family members is the greatest strength of the novel. 

One of the main problems with The Unquiet is that underdeveloped characterization prevents the reader from caring about what the evil ghost does. We don’t develop enough of a connection to the new friends that Rinn’s made in Ohio to really care when the ghost starts to punish them. Similarly, the “instalove” romance that erupts overnight between Rinn and Nate, the boy across the street, doesn’t feel like it’s founded on anything more than a running gag about Rinn being a city girl and Nate being a country boy. However, Rinn has moved from L.A. to a small town in Ohio. Both Rinn and Nate act as though they’re in an isolated spot in Montana or Idaho. They’re not even in Iowa! Ohio just doesn’t fit the bill as the setting for a truly country bumpkin town. Minus the plausibility of the subject of the constant teasing between the two, the relationship feels completely random.

Garsee states in an author’s note at the end of the novel that her inspiration came from a real life “tunnel” at her school that was believed to be haunted. Garsee’s genuine attachment to this element of the novel is clear, but the underdeveloped plot feels like window dressing designed to enable the author to write about the tunnel. The final revelations of the ghost’s motivation in harming the teenagers of River Hills High School and Rinn’s ability to banish the ghost aren’t very logical. Without giving away too much of the plot, I was left feeling that Rinn beat the ghost because she was the main character, and that’s who's supposed to save the day. Needless to say, that’s not a great ending.

It's easy to find examples of recent, better written YA novels that I would direct fans of the ghost seeking vengeance theme to first. Anna Dressed in Blood is a much more satisfying read. Laura Whitcomb’s A Certain Slant of Light, while a totally different take on teenage ghosts, is another great book. But those who can't read enough books in this particular vein will still find some enjoyment in this book, as the appeal of the narrator helps smooth over the problematic spots in the book until the inadequate ending . For everyone else, I'd classify The Unquiet as a bench warmer, an adequate back-up for when you must read something but don’t have anything better at hand.

Book Review: Drowned

Title: Drowned

Author: Therese Bowman

Translator: Marlaine Delargy

Publisher: Other Press

Pub. Date: May 22, 2012

ISBN: 9781590515242

Drowned is surprising, a quality that is rare in the books I’ve encountered recently. The mystery isn’t simply unpredictable in that it zigs where you anticipate it would zag; it is also restrained in places where most books would go all out.

Above all things, Drowned is subtle. It demands a careful reader who will not skim over a line or two in an eagerness to discover the twists of the increasingly tense plot. Yet it begins so slowly and simply that the reader doesn’t discover its demands until far along in the novel, a process which mirrors the predicament of Marina, the protagonist.

Marina escapes Stockholm and the university coursework she has failed to complete to spend a few weeks with her sister Stella in the country home of Stella’s boyfriend Gabriel. The depiction of the rural environment is one of the great strengths of the novel. The preoccupation with sensory detail doesn’t just immerse the reader in rural Sweden. Bowman figuratively utilizes the elements of nature in a way that is obvious yet not heavy-handed. 

Stylistically, run-on sentences are so pervasive throughout the novel that one can only conclude that they are a deliberate choice. While at first distracting, these lines work overall in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible by furthering the blurred, dream-like atmosphere of the novel. The sudden, furtive sexual encounters that develop between Marina and Gabriel have an air of unreality. As Marina returns to Stockholm, the relationship seems to end without consequences.

Yet in the second half of the novel, fall has set in, and the haze that summer cast over the characters dissipates. Everything that was established in part one is turned on its head, including Marina’s obsession with Gabriel. Bowman’s brevity and restraint pays off in a wholly unexpected ending. Drowned is a novel that will linger in your mind and leave you eager to turn back to the beginning when you have read the final page.


Disclosure: I received a copy of this book for review purposes from netgalley.com.

Third Sentence Thursday: ASHES TO DUST

From the Proud Brook Nerd,  here are the rules: "take the book you are currently reading and post the third sentence of the third chapter. Feel free to share one or two of the following sentences, if you’d like." I'm reading Yrsa Sigurdardottir's ASHES TO DUST.

The third of the third (and the two previous): 

Some days in Thóra’s life were slightly worse than others; on a bad day, for example, she would need to stop on her way to work to go back and turn off the coffeemaker, or she’d get a call from the school asking her to fetch her daughter Sóley, who had got a bloody nose at break time. Other days were even worse: bills were overdue and the cash machine was broken, petrol got pumped into the family car which ran on diesel, and so on. On those days nothing went as it should, neither at home nor at the office. 

This is the 4th novel in Sigurdardottir's thriller series featuring Thóra Gudmundsdóttir.Thóra is an Icelandic lawyer who gets involved in various frightening scenarios while defending unlikely clients. One of the best things about Thóra is that she feel average, compared to many protagonists of mystery series: she doesn't have the sociopathic tendencies of Laura Lippman's Tess Monaghan, or the hapless, sloppy self-loathing of Elizabeth George's Barbara Havers. 

When Thóra demonstrates bravery in the face of the unknown and often supernatural, it's very easy for the reader to identify with her, because she doesn't have some kind of virtual superpower that facilitates the resolution of the problem posed in the novel. Her creator explores the ways in which she has to balance her family and her career in a way that feels very different from the ways in which most American mystery series handle the competing desires of female protagonists. I suspect cultural context has a lot to do with the ease with which Thóra's desires are legitimized.

The best example of how Thóra's life is utterly different than I'd imagine an American fictional counterpart's to be is how the teen pregnancy of Thóra's son's girlfriend is handled. Thóra and her ex-husband accept and support the teens' choice to keep the baby. But it isn't because of religious belief or societal expectations. The teens make the decision themselves, and then each family switches off weeks housing the mother and child. There's no moral condemnation, no authorial punishment inserted into the situation. The pregnancy treated in a matter of fact manner that is the polar opposite of the angst ridden scenarios conjured up in semi-fictions like "Teen Mom."

 I'm only about five chapters into Ashes to Dust, so I don't feel ready to weigh in on how it compares to the other books in the series. But the mystery centers around the discovery of bodies in a house being excavated after the devastation of the 1973 explosion of the Eldfell volcano on one of Iceland's Westman Islands. The video above is footage of the explosion and evacuation. How can a murder mystery set in a modern day Pompeii not be good?!

Third Sentence Thursday: THE HYPNOTIST

 Time to play Third Sentence Thursday, a blog game hosted by Proud Brook Nerd.  Here are the rules: "take the book you are currently reading and post the third sentence of the third chapter. Feel free to share one or two of the following sentences, if you’d like."

I'm reading THE HYPNOTIST, by Lars Kepler.

The third of the third:

Erik says the boy’s name, and something passes painfully across the face.

I think it's fair to say that's not a great sentence. I'm only half way through the book, and I haven't pin able to pin this one down. It's the type of novel I was looking for--a creepy thriller that features an evil child. 

However, it's intensely gruesome in a gratuitous way, and unless something changes quickly, the plot is extremely predictable. It is excessively long--some might even say self-indulgently so--and there may be a shocking twist in the next 250 pages.

 But I'm not sure I'll be able to keep reading till the end, as the stilted prose (which may be a problem with the translation) and the predictability are making me rapidly lose interest. I'll update if this novel ends up on the "did not finish" list.

The one thing this novel has going for it is the cover above on the left. It's a perfect blend of elements that intrinsically make the reader fearful--the figure in the shadows,the stairs, the red carpet. It's subtle, unlike the alternate cover above on the right. Unfortunately, I think that the cover on the right is more representative of the novel.

Third Sentence Thursday: WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE

Time to play Third Sentence Thursday, a blog game (somehow I prefer this description to "meme") hosted by Proud Brook Nerd.  Here are the rules: "take the book you are currently reading and post the third sentence of the third chapter. Feel free to share one or two of the following sentences, if you’d like."

I'm finishing up Shirley Jackson's WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE. Like everyone else, I read "The Lottery" growing up. Since I started my WIP, I've been reading a lot of classic thrillers/horror novels. THE HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL  was the first of Jackson's novels that I read. It was just as creepy and amazing as CASTLE. Jackson's unreliable narrators take you on this ride, where at first things are scary, and not as they seem, and you try to figure out what's really going on. Then, there's the long narrative space that feels like simultaneously watching a car crash happen and being in the car as it crashes. At the end, you've returned to a farther distance, unable to look away from all the smashed up cars and bodies.

I need to look up Jackson's birthday and start the movement for a National Shirley Jackson Day, because she is that amazing.


The third of the third: "I watched her."

Today's third obviously proves there are limitations to the game. Here are the next two lines:

"On Saturday morning, after Helen Clarke had come to tea, Constance looked at the driveway three times. Uncle Julian was not well on Saturday morning, after tiring himself at tea, and stayed in his bed in his warm room next to the kitchen, looking out of the window beside his pillow, calling now and then to make Constance notice him."

Three sentences from the third chapter gives you just enough to sense the atmosphere of the book.  But if you're uncertain whether or not you'd be interested in reading, check out the last two sentences of the first paragraph of the novel:

"I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the deathcup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead."

These two lines just blow me away. I'm putting off the other books that I had planned to read to continue to read Jackson.  Next up is THE SUNDIAL.