I found myself melancholic and weighed down by a strange heaviness once I got to page 100 in this intense, darkly seductive novel.
This is, by far, the strangest, most painfully romantic read I’ve experienced. The pieces of me entirely devoted to books and reading sighed in both approval and heartache the further I ventured into this story. It is a clear masterpiece, honed to a deadly point that’s meant to mark you forever.
I’m not sure if that makes sense, but perhaps, once you’ve read this stunning book, you’d understand what I’m trying to say.
This read was many things. Thoroughly intriguing, masterfully Gothic, and utterly astounding. It slowly feeds you hope, only to dash it to the ground in a fit of harsh reality.
The author gives you bits of information slowly enough to make you assume one thing, guess another, and find out with cold shock that you were so very wrong on both counts.
I’m a notorious re-reader, but this is the kind of story that flourishes in the mind of someone who has no idea what they’re getting into. I may never pick this book up again, but only because I don’t ever want to tarnish the grim, oddly satisfying memory I have of it.