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A review by chelsevie
Tell Me I'm Worthless by Alison Rumfitt
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
Punk. Queer. Horror.
3 words on the cover of this book that drew me in, in the hope of reigniting my reading habits and discovering something that would be 'right up my street'.
In many ways, Tell Me I'm Worthless was that, and there is a lot to applaud it for. But even as a hardened horror fan, I found the sheer violence and explicit imagery a little tough to bear at times and readers should definitely be cautious of some of its more inflammatory content.
What if the evil of fascism was secretly thriving in the UK? What if the very heart of it had a precise location, and a paedophile politician built a large foreboding house right on top of it, a house with a diseased soul that infects all who find themselves within its reach? What if 3 girls enter that house, and only 2 leave, deeply scarred and conflicted by their experiences within?
The trouble is, the two women have dramatically different recollections of what happened there, and the memory of the place and its inescapable haunting presence has set them on very different, but equally destructive paths. Are they haunted by their trauma? Or is their trauma a series of unreliable memories formulated and implanted by the haunted house? 3 years later, can they agree to put their differences aside and trust each other enough to go back to the house and attempt to put an end to it?
Honestly, the finale; the 'You' chapter towards the end, was disappointing to me. Interesting as a literary experiment, but too jarring in its construction and its placement within the narrative, brazenly skipping over the one integral scene that as a reader I'd been thirsting for for pages beforehand. Anti-climatic and too confused in its message.
Whilst there are some great, imaginative passages within this book, there are also many over long and over wrought sections that are far too 'ranty'; not only wearing its politics on its sleeve, but shamelessly beating you with them in a way that seemed at times too patronising and reductive.
Having said that, I really enjoyed the chapters that were written from the perspective of Albion; the house itself, an embodiment of fascism that lives and breathes and yes, talks, to the reader and to the central characters. Haunted houses may just be one of my favourite horror sub-genres, and Albion was unique and refreshing in many ways. Haunted, not by ghosts, or vengeance or even 'evil' - however you define that - but by an ideology. This house wasn't turned bad by some destructive force or traumatic event, rather it was a darkness that had always been there, lying in wait below the surface, invigored by the tools of man that gave it bricks and mortar and a tangible structure to inhabit and prey from.
I'd also like to admit, rather embarrassingly , that this is the first book I've read with a trans lead character, and in this case that fact is intrinsic to the story, which is not a detraction against the book at all, but an important point nonetheless. We need more queer writers, more queer stories and characters, but even more so than that, we need more authors who are able to unflinchingly lay bare the 21st century trans experience - warts and all - and for that I commend Rumfitt.
There is much more to say about this book, and Ill enjoy reading other reviews and perhaps returning to in the future. Whilst, I'd be very careful who I'd recommend this to, this is a promising debut from Rumfitt, who I hope will remain in the horror genre for years to come.
Approach with caution.
3 words on the cover of this book that drew me in, in the hope of reigniting my reading habits and discovering something that would be 'right up my street'.
In many ways, Tell Me I'm Worthless was that, and there is a lot to applaud it for. But even as a hardened horror fan, I found the sheer violence and explicit imagery a little tough to bear at times and readers should definitely be cautious of some of its more inflammatory content.
What if the evil of fascism was secretly thriving in the UK? What if the very heart of it had a precise location, and a paedophile politician built a large foreboding house right on top of it, a house with a diseased soul that infects all who find themselves within its reach? What if 3 girls enter that house, and only 2 leave, deeply scarred and conflicted by their experiences within?
The trouble is, the two women have dramatically different recollections of what happened there, and the memory of the place and its inescapable haunting presence has set them on very different, but equally destructive paths. Are they haunted by their trauma? Or is their trauma a series of unreliable memories formulated and implanted by the haunted house? 3 years later, can they agree to put their differences aside and trust each other enough to go back to the house and attempt to put an end to it?
Honestly, the finale; the 'You' chapter towards the end, was disappointing to me. Interesting as a literary experiment, but too jarring in its construction and its placement within the narrative, brazenly skipping over the one integral scene that as a reader I'd been thirsting for for pages beforehand. Anti-climatic and too confused in its message.
Whilst there are some great, imaginative passages within this book, there are also many over long and over wrought sections that are far too 'ranty'; not only wearing its politics on its sleeve, but shamelessly beating you with them in a way that seemed at times too patronising and reductive.
Having said that, I really enjoyed the chapters that were written from the perspective of Albion; the house itself, an embodiment of fascism that lives and breathes and yes, talks, to the reader and to the central characters. Haunted houses may just be one of my favourite horror sub-genres, and Albion was unique and refreshing in many ways. Haunted, not by ghosts, or vengeance or even 'evil' - however you define that - but by an ideology. This house wasn't turned bad by some destructive force or traumatic event, rather it was a darkness that had always been there, lying in wait below the surface, invigored by the tools of man that gave it bricks and mortar and a tangible structure to inhabit and prey from.
I'd also like to admit, rather embarrassingly , that this is the first book I've read with a trans lead character, and in this case that fact is intrinsic to the story, which is not a detraction against the book at all, but an important point nonetheless. We need more queer writers, more queer stories and characters, but even more so than that, we need more authors who are able to unflinchingly lay bare the 21st century trans experience - warts and all - and for that I commend Rumfitt.
There is much more to say about this book, and Ill enjoy reading other reviews and perhaps returning to in the future. Whilst, I'd be very careful who I'd recommend this to, this is a promising debut from Rumfitt, who I hope will remain in the horror genre for years to come.
Approach with caution.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Homophobia, Rape, Sexual violence, and Transphobia