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illustrated_librarian 's review for:
Make a Home of Me
by Vanessa Santos
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
fast-paced
'There were some I preferred over others', 'it's always going to be hit and miss' — they're common caveats with story collections, aren't they? So obvious I feel a bit over seeing and repeating them.
Instead, I've started thinking of story collections as akin to albums. Not every track is going to be a roof-raising anthem, there need to be slower interludes and changes of pace; the overall structure and deployment of the biggest hits matters as much as the fact they're there at all.
Here, then, is a wonderfully constructed album, over the course of which Santos gradually unpicks different ideas of domestic comfort and security.
There's the punchy opener, Table Scraps, which turns the comfort of a family dinner queasily on its head, there's the powerful Emily which takes the creepy child trope and dials it up to 110% before a switch to some more introspective stories — melancholy, grief and unease invade homes and families quietly, subtly. The collection closes with The Wall, a gradually building tale of stale domestic bliss shattered by the unending cries of a baby; it's claustrophobic, sad, and disquieting all at once, capturing the feelings that have built over the other stories.
There's no splatter to this horror, rather a quiet destabilisation of the places, physical or metaphorical, we think we're safest — our houses, families, partners, even our planet. This collection will have you checking your shared walls and questioning if you really did move that ornament.
I recommend this to fans of Seven Empty Houses, another fantastic gathering of domestic unease. Also if you enjoy Mouthful from this collection I'd recommend Bear Season by Gemma Fairclough, as they share the epistolary format, ambiguity, and isolated woodland setting. It was one of my favourite stories of the lot and one I haven't seen praised enough!
A massive thanks to Dead Ink for my copy of this creepy delight 🏚️🖤
Instead, I've started thinking of story collections as akin to albums. Not every track is going to be a roof-raising anthem, there need to be slower interludes and changes of pace; the overall structure and deployment of the biggest hits matters as much as the fact they're there at all.
Here, then, is a wonderfully constructed album, over the course of which Santos gradually unpicks different ideas of domestic comfort and security.
There's the punchy opener, Table Scraps, which turns the comfort of a family dinner queasily on its head, there's the powerful Emily which takes the creepy child trope and dials it up to 110% before a switch to some more introspective stories — melancholy, grief and unease invade homes and families quietly, subtly. The collection closes with The Wall, a gradually building tale of stale domestic bliss shattered by the unending cries of a baby; it's claustrophobic, sad, and disquieting all at once, capturing the feelings that have built over the other stories.
There's no splatter to this horror, rather a quiet destabilisation of the places, physical or metaphorical, we think we're safest — our houses, families, partners, even our planet. This collection will have you checking your shared walls and questioning if you really did move that ornament.
I recommend this to fans of Seven Empty Houses, another fantastic gathering of domestic unease. Also if you enjoy Mouthful from this collection I'd recommend Bear Season by Gemma Fairclough, as they share the epistolary format, ambiguity, and isolated woodland setting. It was one of my favourite stories of the lot and one I haven't seen praised enough!
A massive thanks to Dead Ink for my copy of this creepy delight 🏚️🖤