For a little while now, I’ve sorta been the voracious reader I once was. Partly due to necessity, as I’d stupidly gone through all those pictures I’d snapped of book covers in places like Target of things for my to-read list and added all (that were available) of them to my library hold list. At any one time, I’ve had roughly a dozen books checked out from the library. Silly me keeps finding new books of interest and adding them to the pile, in addition to the ones I’ve been buying at full retail and the ones I’ve discovered at Goodwill as my fiancee searches for teacups and teapots for her bridal shower. It’s to the point that I had to force myself to finish a particular book yesterday, just to make sure it was out of the way in time to return by the end of the week, since apparently an existing hold request for it means it’s not one of the books I can just infinitely renew like all the others. Couple that with us signing on our new house on Friday, then moving in on Saturday, and you have my mad dash to clear out as many books as I can to spare me having to transport them… at the same time as I weigh whether I should be reading or packing up more stuff. It’s been an interesting time, to say the least.
Onto the book, though, The Push is one of multiple cases from this pile of a dozen to-be-reviewed books where the book wound up running pretty contrary to my expectations. Having skimmed the quotes and such on the back, I assumed the book would be our main character manufacturing dire circumstances whole cloth in her own mind. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case. Sure, she’s not without a touch of her own craziness, passed down to her by the women in her family, but that only lends further credence to her concerns. If this is how all the women in her family are, then why won’t they listen to her concerns about her own daughter before something happens that they can’t fix?
What follows makes for a delightfully tense thrill ride where you’re constantly wondering how much of her fears are honest and how much are exaggerated, largely because those around her and her familial history are forever forcing her to question the thing she sees with her own eyes. My only complaint, and it’s a large part of why I dock the book to 4 stars, is the ending feels too gimmicky to me, more focused on leaving you with one final note of fright than one of proper resolution. It feels like a movie, in that sense, where things seem to get wrapped up somewhat, only for a post-credits tag to give you a quick “psyche!” In book form, it’s more frustrating than in movie form, I guess. Still, it’s compulsively readable and sure to keep most readers guessing, so I recommend it to anyone looking for an anxiety-filled thrill-ride.