Reviews with content warning for Death - After the Silence

After the Silence really surprised me. I went in expecting a murder mystery/thriller and was surprised to find that this was actually a rather minor element. Instead, this book focuses a lot more on interpersonal relations and, in particular, domestic abuse in all its forms.

In a sense, this book is a character study much more than a thriller, as Keelin and her controlling husband Henry take centre stage and their relationship is laid bare before our eyes. The characters are beautifully fleshed out, as their connections are slowly revealed and untangled. Keelin is a particularly fascinating and complex character. Throughout most of the book, I simultaneously sympathised with her and found her very irritating: that's how you know this was a character done right!

I loved how the author managed to peel off all the layers of appearance which cause Keelin to be resented and shunned by her fellow islanders: as the rumours go, her loyalties now lie with her "blow-in" husband who is clearly guilty of murdering young, beautiful Nessa Crowley, because he can give her money, clothes and a big house. Instead, we get to see underneath all that to the true nature of their relationship and all the nuance that is there. It would have been really easy to paint the usual, stereotypical victim of domestic abuse with no agency, but the author managed to show exactly how complex these situations and dynamics can be, and just how strong Keelin is despite (or maybe because of) everything she endured.

The island setting also worked perfectly. The island becomes at times almost a character in itself, as it heavily influences both the events and the characters themselves. I could almost see the setting it was so beautifully described, and at times I felt the deep limitations of life on this tiny island, almost to the point of it causing some sort of claustrophobia.

The use of the Irish language throughout is the only thing that left me a bit uncertain. While I loved seeing it and I appreciate the effort to remain authentic to life in the region where the book is set, the use of Irish words and expressions seemed a bit uneven throughout the book. Initially, every little word is explained as requested by the documentary makers, but as the story progresses there are whole sentences that are just not translated or explained at all. There also seemed to be no clear reason for why a certain character would use an Irish word at any given moment, which contributed to the feeling that they were slightly randomly chosen. Nevertheless, this didn't take much away from the pleasure of reading the book for me, aside from the odd googling.

The structure also took a bit of adjusting, as the book alternates present and past events, interspersed with extracts from the interviews which would be included in the documentary on the case. I needed a bit of time to fully get into the swing of this, but once I did, I was completely absorbed in the story and couldn't put the book down. I particularly liked the introduction of the documentary interviews, which contributed to give this more of a true crime feel. Coincidentally, I finished this soon before Sophie: A Murder in West Cork was released on Netflix, so that it was almost impossible for me not to link the two in my mind.

As for the murder itself, that was probably the most underwhelming aspect of the whole book. Nessa Crowley was quite poorly characterised, coming across as a very stereotypical "other woman" so that, despite everything, it was very hard to care deeply about her tragic fate. The reveal was also not all that surprising, given how few the suspects actually were. This disappointment might be down to the fact that I was expecting more of a "whodunnit" and an active investigation by the documentary makers and this is definitely not this book.

After the Silence was still a very interesting and gripping read, even though it was not at all what I was expecting it to be. Best suited to those looking for a book focusing more on complex characters than a thriller, though it does contain some heavy content (mostly around domestic abuse), so maybe give it a miss if that might be triggering for you.

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bookwormreflections's review

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dark informative mysterious sad slow-paced

Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

This was dark and haunting with a beautiful writing style.

After the Silence explores domestic abuse, and all the forms it takes through the lens of a true crime documentary - though I wish there had been more of the documentary.

In 374 pages she manages to explore post-colonialism, domestic abuse, postpartum depression, systemic racism, and elitism. At no point did this ever feel like O’Neill was bashing you over the head, she used her craft to tell a story that was true to life while pointing out the issues in the world today.

As it stands the overall outcome was predictable but still a good read.

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tachyondecay's review

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challenging dark emotional mysterious sad tense slow-paced

Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

Just absolutely devastating. But of course, I have come to expect that of Louise O’Neill.

After two brilliant forays into young adult novels, both well worth a read, O’Neill brought her unstinting criticism of patriarchy to her first adult novel Almost Love in the best and most scathing way possible. After the Silence is a more-than-worthy second adult novel. While both have passing similarities—depictions of emotional abuse, gaslighting, male partners treating women poorly—O’Neill looks at these issues from an entirely different angle. She forces us to confront not the darkest parts of relationships (particularly with men); rather she forces us to confront the greyest parts, the parts we seldom talk about because to admit they are present would be to admit our entire model of romance is broken.

Hopefully the description of the book is enough, but in case it isn’t, seriously, massive trigger warnings for partner abuse, gaslighting, controlling and manipulative behaviour, murder, etc. I struggled with this at times, and I have never had a romantic relationship, let alone a toxic or abusive one—I can only imagine how triggering this book would be for some people who have, and you should really, really think hard about whether you want to expose yourself to that before you read this.

But to be clear: if you are up for it, After the Silence is a stone-cold masterpiece.

On one level, this is a psychological thriller. A documentary crew arrives on the small island of Inisrún. They are investigating the unsolved murder of Nessa Crowley, who ten years ago was found dead during a party on the storm-embattled island. The islanders blame Henry Kinsella and, by association, his wife Keelin, who is our protagonist. As the story progresses, we must wonder whether or not Henry is guilty—and if so, is Keelin covering for him, an unreliable narrator?—or if the mystery goes deeper. In actuality, Henry is guilty of many other things—whether or not he is the murderer is not something I will spoil.

Do not expect a simple thriller here though. Almost from page one, O’Neill makes it clear that the psychology in this psychological thriller is far more focused on Keelin Kinsella’s relationship with Henry. The brutality of O’Neill’s depiction of abuse is in its very mediocrity. Keelin, having left a physically abusive husband and subsequently trained as a domestic violence counsellor, believes she knows what abuse is. So when Henry begins to control her, to encourage her not to leave Inisrún, cut her off from her credit cards, her phone, her friends, medicate her—all “for her own good”—and because he does it gradually enough, Keelin doesn’t see what’s going on. Or maybe she does, but she is too afraid to acknowledge it. Because you can’t forget the death of Nessa Crowley. You can’t forget the way it ostracized the Kinsellas, and how, against such opposition, they would necessarily feel the need for solidarity. So not only might Keelin feel like she can’t run—she also doesn’t really have anywhere to run to.

If you’re anything like me, you’ll turn these pages while your skin crawls, and you’ll want to yell at the book, as if it could transmit your words to Keelin: leave him, run, wake up and realize what he’s doing. Every moment of reading After the Silence is a visceral moment of feeling Keelin’s sense of swimming through lead.

If that were it, if this book were just a portrayal of a woman being gaslit and manipulated by her husband in the decade following a murder, then the book would be good. But what makes this book sublime is how O’Neill connects the dots for us between Henry’s behaviour and our patriarchal society.

I think there is room to read Henry’s behaviour in two ways. On the one hand, he knows exactly what he is doing: he is the mastermind, the manipulator, cunningly controlling his wife for his own ends. On the other hand, I prefer the idea that Henry is somewhat oblivious to the harm in his behaviour—that is to say, he is not naive and he knows that he is good at manipulating people, but he genuinely believes that this is what love is. We see this throughout the book. He uses all the right phrases, condemns obvious incidents of sexism, tells Keelin she needs to listen to him “express his feelings” because isn’t communication important in a relationship? Henry is the epitome of the woke misogynist.

This is the true danger lurking at the heart of After the Silence. The problem is not the women who are abused. And without trying to excuse individual responsibility, the men who are the abusers are a symptom of the ultimate problem: our society enables abuse, particularly the abuse of women at the hands of male partners. It does this in multiple ways. Some are pretty obvious when you think about it—the way abused people can so easily be isolated in an age where we all seem connected at the hip through our phones, the victim-blaming and lack of supports to people who actually leave their situation of abuse. But most of th ways our society enables abuse are far more pernicious, and Henry is a textbook case. This is particularly evident towards the end, when we hear more about his backstory. No one taught Henry how to have a healthy relationship. He learned bad lessons, built atop a tower of white and male privilege. In Henry’s mind, his love for Keelin justifies how he behaves towards her, because our society teaches men that to love a woman is to want to control her, to put her on a pedestal, to bind her to you so that you can admire her and praise her—but on your terms and in a way that can never threaten your own success. Just think back to the vast majority of romances and romantic comedies with these kinds of messages.

Echoes of this theme abound throughout the book. Consider how Nessa and her two sisters were mythologized as the beautiful, slightly alien Crowley Girls. From an early age, we teach girls—intentionally and unintentionally—that their beauty is tied to their self worth. Nessa, even at 20, was still a very young, very inexperienced woman. She gets taken advantage of, not because she lacks agency, but because the messaging she received for the first two decades of her life have twisted that sense of agency. What we view as unacceptable she views as acceptable because it validates the messages we have told her for 20 years.

Did Henry Kinsella kill Nessa Crowley? Does she ever get justice? You’ll have to read the book to find out! I won’t lie: it will be a difficult read, but it is so worthwhile. O’Neill engages me, gets me thinking about these issues, all while telling a deep, rich, dark story. This is the power of fiction at full strength; what would be dry or too stark when laid out in non-fiction becomes moving, terrifying, paramount when told through fiction’s lens. After the Silence is an abiding story of abuse, patriarchy, toxic masculinity, and the tolls that these take on women—up to and including their very lives.

Originally posted at Kara.Reviews.

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hannahmorgan's review

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mysterious reflective medium-paced

Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

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