Gripping, fast-paced, gorgeously written, and with unforgettable characters, Cauchemar tells the story of 20-year-old Hannah, who finds herself living alone on the edge of a Louisianan swamp after her adoptive mother and protector dies. Hannah falls in love with Callum, an easy-going boat captain and part-time musician, but after her mysterious birth mother, outcast as a witch and rumoured to commune with the dead, comes back into Hannah's life, she must confront what she's been hiding from -- the deadly spirits that haunt the swamp, the dark secrets of her past, and the nascent gift she possesses. Like the nightmares that plague Hannah, Cauchemar lingers and haunts.
These star ratings are stupid, for several reasons, but the reason today is that I find it impossible to rate a book that so equally compelled and repelled me. I was torn between staying up too late and tossing it out the car window as we drove (I stayed up late).
Cauchemar is a thriller movie begging to be made. I would TOTALLY watch it. But I don't get that feeling from it sounding like it was written with that intent; no, I get it from everything being so vivid and visceral and REAL, from the horrifically growing cracks in the walls to the legions of insects to the decrepit men to the unborn baby to the snakes and heat and crashing crows that I had to take a shower afterward. The veil between this world and the next is far too thin in this book for you to rest comfortably with tea.
It's a freaking nightmare, it's love story, it's a powerful conjuring of the dark magic that buoys the Deep Southern swamps; and Grigorescu is a literary witch. Who has possibly totally hung out with the Louisiana witches, because she evoked them something strong.
There is an otherworldly atmosphere in this southern gothic tale, written by a Canadian author. The eerily alluring setting, the marshlands of Louisiana, is dreamlike at times, but balanced by a crisp physicality. You can practically feel the mosquitoes nibbling away at you and hear the critters scampering about. If I were witchily inclined I'd set camp there too.
Christobelle, referred to as a cult leader by the locals, doesn't get to enjoy her enclave of magic much though. The loyal men who surround her seem to be wasting away, and the magic comes with a price. Her estranged daughter Hannah would rather have nothing to do with the mystical forces that surround her, but that's what you get for living in the bayou. After the woman who raised her dies, she meets an older man and gets pregnant in a whoops-I-guess-birth-control-doesn't-work kind of way (it does, you must not be doing it right). The pregnancy escalates the swampy unpleasantness, and both Hannah and babydaddy Callum are plagued by awful dreams that seem to seep into reality.
The dream sequences are very well done, and create a pervading sense of menace, but I wish the supernatural elements would have been further explored. I never quite believed in the love story, which happened very fast, and neither Hannah or Callum felt fully realized. I found myself wanting to know more about Christobelle and her background. How exactly do you become a swamp witch with an image problem?
If you enjoy southern gothic, this is well worth a read.
Did not get far with this one. Grigorescu's actually not a bad writer--her prose for the most part is decent--but the pacing is utterly nonsensical. The first like thirty pages are all about the death of the narrator's guardian, which I was on board with, but then within another thirty pages she meets a man at a bar, sleeps with him, and in the space of like two paragraphs they're a couple having Christmas together and exchanging house keys. (I also feel like it would be remiss not to point out the sheer hilariousness of the fact that the first of what I'm sure are going to be many sex scenes makes use of the word 'shoveled.') There's a looming sinister something lurking in the background of the story, but Grigorescu's made the mistake of deliberately keeping the reader in the dark--and letting him know he's being kept in the dark--right from the get-go. It's frustrating and instead of making me want to know more it just made me want to stop reading. Which is exactly what I did.
When my husband asked me what it was that kept me in the bathtub reading until I’d turned into a prune, I told him it was a novel called Cauchemar, and that it was a sort of spooky, supernatural coming-of-age story that was both beautiful and haunting.
The story itself, Hannah’s story, is compelling: a young woman loses the maternal figure (not her biological mother) whom she’s lived with for most of her life, and is forced to face her family history, her mother’s reputation, and her actual mother while she tries to find herself.
Hannah’s love interest, Callum, reminded me of every working musician I ever dated before I got married. He’s not a superstar, he’s the kind of guy who plays gigs and has a couple groupies and is happy to share a beer after the show – but then he meets Hannah.
It could have been a perfunctory love story with a young woman, and an older (but not OLD), more experienced man, but author Alexandra Grigorescu mixes in a bayou setting, a dash of supernatural intrigue, and enough music and cookery to fill anyone’s plate. Even better, she does it well: you can hear the rippling of the river, the buzzing of the mosquitoes. You can smell the herbs in Hannah’s cooking, feel the way Callum’s music thrums through the floorboards, and, if you’re really receptive, you might even convince yourself you’ve seen something spooky out of the corner of your eye.
What I love about Grigorescu’s prose is that it’s lush and hearty, with enough vivid description to really give you a sense of place, but without any affectation. Likewise, her dialogue seems appropriate for a small town in the American south, with each character having a distinct voice that never detracts from the work as a whole.
For me, personally, an added benefit was that this story hit me in the sweet spot of my amygdala, the one that makes the spooky stuff seem spookier and the romantic parts seem even more romantic. I finished the novel sitting up in bed in the middle of the night, because I HAD to finish the story before I could sleep.
This is Alexandra Grigorescu’s debut novel, and I’m a little worried that she won’t be able to top it when she produces her second book, because it hits all the right notes (musical and foodie), and leaves you satisfied but willing to have more.
***I purchased a copy of this book at Chapters/Indigo*** Now we're only at the mid-way point through 2015 so it's still a bit early to call "Cauchemar" the absolute best and most stunning novel I read in 2015, but I have every confidence that I will still feel this way in December. That is how blown away I am by this novel and how good it is.
I first heard about this book in a magazine review and I remember being intrigued by the title--as a francophone, French titles tend to perk up my attention. At the very least, I'm going to check out the book and find out more. Then the review mentioned Louisiana. Then it mentioned Southern Gothic. Basically, I kept on finding more and more reasons to make this book a "must read" for myself.
The language is rich, absorbing and savoury. The first chapter alone is luscious, addicting, and utterly unputdownable. This novel is also incredibly creepy and very vividly atmospheric. It definitely has supernatural themes, so horror readers should also read it. The great thing is this novel is not gimmicky and doesn't go for cheap thrills. It's subtle horror, a supernatural Southern Gothic tale. There is mention of the orishas and Elegba which readers will recognize if they're familiar with the religion of Santeria. It's similar to voodoo with some key differences. There are a few mentions of the word 'voodoo' and it is alluded to that Christobelle, one of the main antagonists and the protagonist Hannah's mother, siphons the life force from men for her own gain. It's left deliberately vague what purpose this was for or how the family even gained these powers or why Hannah seems to have it too when it comes to her boyfriend, Callum.
I couldn't put it down. It was gripping all throughout and did not have a single boring passage. The pacing, the suspense, and not having things at a breakneck speed made this book more like a slow burn. It has shades of Anne Rice, but is more flourishing and even richer.
I wasn't so sure about the character of Callum in the beginning but came around to loving him by the end, and even though Hannah wasn't someone I was completely on board with, by the end of the book that changed for me completely. It wasn't clear where things were going to go (which is a good thing), and even though my predictions on how it would all come together at the end came to fruition, that didn't make this novel any less entertaining for me, not to mention the execution of it all was brilliant.
So, I can't say enough good things about "Cauchemar" except that you should buy it, read it and savour it even if you don't usually go for Southern Gothic or supernatural themes in fiction. It's an astounding book.
The cover and the description made me hope that it was going to be exactly what I wanted: a good, creepy, Southern Gothic novel. Instead, what I got was one of the most strangely paced books I think I've ever read. It's a book! There's no reason why the author couldn't have just inserted extra time into the story so every plot wasn't racing forward in the space of days or weeks.
The main element of the book that suffers from the strange pacing is the central romantic relationship. It's not that I don't believe a relationship could escalate quickly over a brief period of time, but that takes a certain amount of care and skill to make the relationship feel genuine. Instead I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop; for something that would explain what the hell was going on with Hannah and Callum. It was like asking me to get invested in characters and their relationship based on a few passages the length of the blurb on the back of the cover.
Maybe if the sex scenes weren't so ridiculous, I would have at least enjoyed it as some salacious fluff. Sadly, however, the first love scene of the book is also probably one of the worst I've read. He "shovelled" her and "struck ore." I laughed out loud when I read that one. A book has to work awfully hard to recover from something that ridiculous and this one never did.
There's a lot of hints at something interesting here. There's potentially a good story here with a bunch of elements that I feel like I should love. A bisexual heroine and creepy swamp creatures and magic and a troubled childhood and an elusive mother/witch. You describe that to me and I'd want to read the book in a heartbeat.
I feel like the characters would have been better served by taking all the parts written as flashbacks and putting them in chronological order. Tell me about Hannah's childhood, young love, traumas and torments first. Let me get to know her and her adoptive mother and her friend and care about her! Then introduce me to the guy she falls for and what happens next. I feel like I could have actually cared about the characters if they'd been properly introduced.
I almost feel bad giving it a one because there was a lot of potential here but I just didn't like it.
(Disclaimer, I received a copy for review from ECW Press as part of the Shelf Monkey program.)
Somebody in a previous review said that this novel was Southern Gothic dialed up to the max and I can't help bu agree. (I'd personally rather say 'cranked to 11' but I digress.) Within mere pages, the book has already fastened it's claws on you and forces you to read, read, read.
What I love about the location and setting is that it's nothing like the urban Louisiana that we all know and love, Cauchemar is set in the swaps beyond that. There are few to no mentions of technology at all (Do they have computers? Mobile phones? I can't even recall and I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT.) and the novel exists in a world where people are always looking to the past rather than the future. Talking about the dead, obsessing over the dead, walking that fine line between grief and obsession. Like the house Hannah lives in, death seeps through the pages of this book from the first page almost all the way to the last. I often felt a little shaky at times reading through some of the creepier passages.
Grigorescu absolutely has a way with words and manages to woo you while also tugging you under the water with her prose. For every dark passage about Hannah's past (which I ate up with a spoon) you get this tender, if not wary, connection to her present. I think the problem many people reading this book had was that Hannah herself is not a strong character. Not that she's not written well, but that she, the character, is weak. She's never really been active in her own life and now that she's forced to do so, she flails. I think it's admirable to write about a character who isn't the strongest, isn't the bravest, somebody who knows their weaknesses are visible for all to see. It made me root for her more.
Overall, I'm totally gushing over this book. I can't wait to see what's next.
(I think the only thing I didn't really enjoy about the novel, was how white it felt. I'm a little at odds with that considering the demographics and the voodoo culture at hand.)
I won this ARC through a Goodreads first reads giveaway and Cauchemar is Grigorescu's first book!
Losing her protector and adopted mother, 20-year-old Hannah find herself alone on the edge of a Louisiana swamp. Her only solace is with Callum, a boat captain and part-time musician. Hannah's biological mother, who is rumored to commune with the dead and known outcast, comes back into her life. So Hannah must confront what she's been kept from, deadly spirits haunt the swamp, secrets from her past, and a special gift that she posses.
This was surprisingly a really good read. I found that I kept turning the pages trying to get to the end and see how things played out. I did like the supernatural aspect of Cauchemar, it was very captivating and I wanted to keep reading to see how it affected the living because it was.
I did find that a few things were predictable as I read, it made me a little disappointed in how much I was able to predict in this book.
I received a copy of this for the ECW blog tour in exchange for my honest review. Here's a snippet:
In Grigorescu’s story, everything has been dialed up to the absolute maximum. The colours are very saturated, smells are rich, and the stakes are high. When there’s blood, it’s a bloodbath. Where there’s love, it’s life or death. Where there’s a silverfish, it’s the biggest effing silverfish in the world, and the sex fits into that near-cliché territory of perfection. It makes for a visceral reading experience that requires you to fully immerse yourself in the story. If you accidentally keep one foot out in reality, the illusion will shatter.
Although “Cauchemar” sounds like it could be a Buddhist holy land of some kind, it’s actually the French word for “nightmare.” This title evokes just the right vibe of darkness and culture for a tale set in the bayou of the swampy American south. Alexandra Grigorescu tells the story of Hannah, whose mother is a legend for her ties to the spirit world, and is known for being a harbinger of death for men. Hannah’s mother warns her that “they” are coming for her, and throughout the book, Hannah struggles against the supernatural elements of her heritage as she attempts to lead a normal adult life. It’s a bayou thriller packed full of subtle, eldritch magical realism, and topped with a delicious layer of social dysfunction.
One of the crowning achievements of this book is its descriptive methods. Grigorescu has a tremendous ability to describe bizarre events and compounded emotions, and she also crafted an environment that directly reflects the main character’s emotions and dreams. The entire book feels humid and wet, just as the bayou should, and this atmosphere seems to be able to shift, wrapping around whatever emotion the main character is feeling at the time. Whether Hannah is feeling scared and suffocated, or is in a moment of passion and pleasure, the mood pairs with her emotional state beautifully. The setting almost seems to invade the story like a separate, unspeaking entity – like a thick, clingy fog that consumes and dampens all it touches. I went to college in Florida, so I know this particular kind of weather far too well. It’s almost like it has hands. Sweaty hands. It’s gross. It feels the way beets taste. But anyway, Cauchemar is a tremendous example of just how heavily the mood and tone of a book can affect the story and the characters themselves.
In addition to the setting, there is a certain kind of drama to Grigorescu’s word choice that I came to really enjoy the further I got into the book. In the first few pages, I felt some of her phrasings were a little overwrought. But once I was hooked into the story I came to love that her descriptions are a tiny touch over the line of comfortable. They’re just a smidgen too intimate, or too gross, or too socially awkward. They shake the reader up a bit, and it ends up being an incredible device. Grigorescu is somehow able to expertly describe the feeling of feeling multiple feelings at one time, which opens the door even wider to fabulous, uncomfortable character complexity. I felt a little squirmy at times while I read the book, and I imagine that was perhaps the intent. It’s still a graceful book and nothing is gratuitous, but the prose paces anxiously just outside the reader’s salt circle of comfort, forcing you to step outside the line in order to catch it. Even something simple such as zooming in on a character’s chapped lips during an uncomfortable exchange, or acknowledging the true meaning behind someone’s actual spoken words – these things resonate beautifully in the space of the story.
Although I fell madly in love with some of the sentences in this book, I did take some issue with the pacing. Grigorescu does an incredible job of leaving the hoodoo element of things fairly vague, but still solidly creepy. I don’t need a big explanation of how the hoodoo magic works, and she brilliantly allowed the spirit world to float just on the other side of the glass, pressing its face against it to purposefully leer at the characters as though they were animals at the zoo. But at about 75% of the way through the book, I realized I didn’t actually know who the enemy was, and I was getting tired of the hazy references to “they/them.” It’s generally understood that the spirit world has some things in it to be feared. But they are specifically gunning for the main character, and I found myself needing more concrete information in order to keep caring. Dreams and symbolism (there are a lot of both) only go so far before I actually want a few answers. When we are finally given these answers, they feel underdeveloped, and the climactic event of the book is a bit rushed. It’s essentially thrown onto the reader at the end like a bucket of water. There’s something to be said for surprising the reader with a sudden event, but the ending can’t really be “sudden” because I know there are only 30 pages left in my right hand. The ending is also a little lackluster – I was expecting something maybe a bit more original than what I got, or at least something farther outside of what I expected.
If you love character-driven stories, you will enjoy this book immensely. Every single character in this book surprised me with how tangible they felt. I loved them, and I hated them, and there were some that I love-hated. If you love quiet, building suspense, you’ll also really enjoy this book. It spends a great deal of time marinating in its own secrets, and you’ll love following Hannah as she tries to navigate two worlds at once, both of which want different pieces of her. If you’re reading it for the mystical or supernatural elements that it promises, you will still likely enjoy this book, but don’t get too excited for a twisting, complicated plot. But despite its structural glitches, I still consider Cauchemar to be a tremendous work, and beautifully written. It’s intuitive, eerie, earthy, all at once human and otherworldly, and well worth a read.
I read, no wait, perhaps I should say I held my breath the entire time I was reading Cauchemar. It's fascinating, atmospheric, magical, and darkly frightening. It's a masterful first book!
Several years ago, I won this book. I tried reading it then, and immediately put it down. It was weird.
Fast forward to now and I thought, you know what, I'm going to give this a try again. Spoiler: It's still not good. Have you ever read a book that is trying far too hard? This is that book. It's like the author desperately wanted to prove she is a "real" author. You know, the kind who writes literature not mass market fiction. And let me tell you, this book will not appeal to the mass market EVER. And not because of the odd horror/fantasy element. Part of the problem the ridiculously flowery writing style that is both confusing and takes forever to get to a point. Then there's the pacing - I had no sense of when events were occurring and how quickly. But the main issue was the characters. Never in the course of this book will you nod and think, yes I relate or even I wouldn't do that but I bet someone might. The characters make a series of rash decisions that have no basis in reality. Also - is the author from Lousiana? Because it sure doesn't seem like it.
Who would I recommend it to? I'm not even sure. Maybe people who wear fedoras? Or that handful of people we all know that likes to remind you that everything they like - well they liked it before it was cool.
So why the extra star if it was that bad? Honestly, because I've read something far worse in the past few months and because the fact that the heroine was bisexual. And it's explicitly spelled out. I've got to say, I like to see a little diversity in my main characters.
I bought this on a lark from a used bookstore in British Columbia and while the prose is solid and has moments of real grace and beauty, overall I found the storyline didn't draw me in or give me the heebie-jeebies except in the case of the fire scene (OK, that was pretty scary). It didn't work well for me as a compelling love story either, though the love between Hannah and Mae was pretty compelling and probably would have provided a better direction for the story. I've spent a lot of time in Louisiana and the "Deep South" in general and I can't say that I'm a huge fan of so-called "Southern Gothic" except in the occasional hands of someone like James Lee Burke or Flannery O'Connor, and while this is not a bad novel, it didn't succeed as well as I'd hoped either.
I'm not a huge fan. First, this was a little more horror than I anticipated. Second, there were lots of problems that a little further research would have fixed. For example, it's hard to imagine Hannah bleeding as profusely as she was and not losing the baby that she carried. Also, who builds a house with a basement on the swamp? Did Hannah cook chicken gizzards or chicken livers? It seems the author doesn't realize these aren't interchangeable words. Do blueberries stain your teeth black? Etc. Grigorescu certainly paints a creepy picture in this tale but the pacing of the story left a little to be desired. I had more questions than answers when I got to the end.
There's a lot to like about this book's creeping, gothic narrative, but I don't know, man, I just couldn't quite love it. There's a lot going on here, some of it subtle, some of it not. There's a swamp, some haunting, some creatures, a crazy mother. I think what stopped me from being all in was Hannah. She's young, and I just found a lot of what she did dumb, frankly. I guess blame it on youth? She did not make great decisions for herself, let's put it that way. I'm pretty in the middle on this one.
The pacing was unusual, especially at the beginning of the book, but it didn't bother me at all, it somehow fitted the story. The writing was quite beautiful and made the swamp really come alive for me, without getting bogged down in too many details.
This is not a novel for readers who want to have everything explained at the end and it'ss not your classic ghost story either. For a debut novel, I found it quite impressive, and I hope to see more of this author.
Good idea, great atmosphere but this is a 3.5 star review because the outcome was not fully realized. Does it make sense when I say there were too many spaces between the words? I understand what Grigorescu was trying to do, she was being deliberately opaque to create mystery but it ultimately only made the story harder to follow. I would definitely read more from this author because I do think she has talent.
If you love southern novels + gothic themes + mild psychological/body/plague horror with some paranormal horror + beautiful raw sensory rich prose + a tone of memories of cooking/smells/spices + instalove you're going to love this novel, that's why I give it 4 stars, but for me it's 3. This was my first southern themed novel and it's not for me.
I had a love hate relationship with this book. I kept turning the pages to see what was going to happen, it was 300 pages but it could have been a bit more focused. I think their should be a sequel and a prequel Christobelle deserves her own book. Her character is magnetic.
Hannah comes home from buying produce at a neighbors house to find Mae (the woman who raised her) coughing and choking. Mae tells her that she tried to keep them away and then tells her to run. Hannah has no idea what Mae is talking about and she goes to get her a glass of water, but when she returns, Mae's dead.
She decides she wants to continue living in the house, but first, she has to ask Christobelle (her birth mother) because she is the legal owner. On the night of Mae's funeral, Hannah meets Callum, the guy who ferried the guests from town to her house on the swamp. There's an attraction there that leads to more later on.
Then Christobelle shows up. Hannah hasn't seen her real mother in a decade. Things are tense between them, but Christobelle allows her to live in the house. When Hannah goes back in, a neighbor tells her that her childhood friend, Sarah Anne, is there. Hannah is excited and cautious about seeing her old friend. Cautious because guilt had suddenly overcome her.
The last time she saw Sarah Anne, they were escaping through Sarah Anne's basement window because her house was on fire. Her brother was badly burned and died a few days later in the hospital. Hannah saw him through the window, but got scared and ran home. Leaving Sarah Anne to watch as the flames tried to consume her brother.
That is just a taste of what is going on in this book. I really like stories set in Louisiana, especially in New Orleans and on the bayou. There is no other place in the world that houses so many unique and colorful people. They are known for the legends they tell and Cauchemar delves into that world.
I wouldn't say that the story was slow-moving; it kept a steady pace. Enough to hold my interest until something new happened. There was an eeriness to it that reminded me of The Skeleton Key.
You will find a somewhat rekindled friendship that may not be as it seems, an unexpected sacrifice, and just enough of the supernatural to keep you alert. I would recommend this book, definitely if you like folklore and legends.
The moment I read the opening line of this book’s description (“An eerie and romantic Southern gothic drama”) I knew that I had to read this book . I have always been fascinated by the American South, and especially in and around New Orleans. A particular aspect of the South which I am most intrigued by is the dark magic and superstition surrounding many of the stories about it.
I also really enjoy romance, and gothic narratives, so I expected this book to be a fantastic mixture of some of my favourite things. And in a way, it was.
It definitely featured that Southern gothic atmosphere which I enjoy, and there was a very good dose of creepy as well. I was actually unable to read some parts of this book once the sun had set, because not only was some of the imagery frightening and disturbing, but it was described so effectively, that at times I thought I was seeing things out of the corner of my eye.
The majority of this novel is “gorgeously written,” as the description says, and I did enjoy it from the perspective of a lover of the English language. Some portions, however, fell short; such as some of (if not most of) the sex scenes. The pacing and temporal formatting of this book also fell a little short for me, in that it left me confused and frustrated at times, rather than intrigued.
Overall, I think that this book could have been more satisfying for me if the pacing and character development had been handled differently. Otherwise, I did enjoy the the descriptions of the setting, the food, the music, as well as the writing as a whole. I would recommend this book to those who enjoy Southern gothic, romance, and a dose of horror.
The swampy Southern Gothic horror in this book is dialed up to the max, which I found quite wonderful. Many genre staples are used to great effect: the troubled pregnancy, the rotting house, the childhood memories, the animals, the psychosexual elements.
Unfortunately, I could never quite shake the feeling that I'd been dropped into the middle of a story that was already going on, almost like I'd missed a chapter or something. That is, we're meant to care, instantly and deeply, about a personal tragedy befalling characters we're only just meeting. This book is definitely Atmosphere Over Character, and I never completely connected with the main character at all. She's thinly written, with her only notable qualities being naivete and lack of ambition, and the former is kind of strange considering her oft-exhibited inuredness to being a town pariah.
I also took issue with the book's depiction of voodoo, in a sort of twofold way. First off, I felt like I'd have been lost without the relatively small prior knowledge of voodoo that I already happened to have, going in, but then second, that same knowledge also allowed me to be a little offended on behalf of real-life practitioners. (I also found it a little odd how white this book was, considering the racial demographics of Louisiana.)
I really did not care for this book. I did finish it because I rarely abandon a book. I could not get into the story and the characters didn't come to matter to me. The story itself sounded intriguing---Hannah lives in the swamps of Louisiana with her "adoptive" mother, Mae. Mae has kept Hannah safe her entire life, especially from her biological mother, Christobelle, who is known to be some kind of dangerous person who talks to the dead. Then Mae dies, Hannah has contact with Christobelle, and things get worse when she falls in love with Callum and she becomes pregnant. Callum becomes sick and Hannah suspects Christobelle's influence. In the end, it seems that Hannah must choose between Callum and the baby. Sounded like a great story, but just was not for me. I received this book as a First Reads winner on Goodreads.
This book was absolutely captivating - from the eerie atmosphere to the vivid characters. The subject matter was intriguing, the pacing perfect... I have nothing but positive to say about this novel. No review of this book would be complete without mentioning just how talented the author is... when the cover states "beautifully written" it was an understatement. I'm simply blown away that this is Ms. Grigorescu's first novel! Highly, highly recommend for anyone who enjoys dark mystery.
I have to say I really liked this one! It takes place in the swamps of Louisiana so of coarse I had to read it! The story certainly has a paranormal/spooky atmosphere with a good dose of Magic thrown in. The characters are very interesting and the back story provided through out did not take away from the flow of the writing. I look forward to reading the next offering from this new Canadian author!
I really enjoyed this book. While I didn't completely understand what was going on at all times, I loved the atmosphere the author created. Not only that, the way she described things was mesmerizing and really effective. I felt like I could feel, taste or smell everything she was writing about.