This left me feeling pretty “mid,” as the kids say. I’ve realized that Alix E. Harrow might just be an author whose style doesn’t fully click with me when it comes to novels. I had a similar reaction to The Ten Thousand Doors of January—it’s just something about the vibe and pacing that doesn’t quite land. That said, I did enjoy her Fractured Fables series (A Spindle Splintered and A Mirror Mended), so maybe it’s the format that works better for me.
I was excited going into this because I’m usually all in for spooky, atmospheric house-as-character stories. Books like Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier and Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia hit that sweet spot for me, but here it didn’t lean into the eerie house vibes as much as I wanted. It felt like it was trying to straddle that line while also delivering some commentary on race and class—although, to be honest, I had to remind myself of what those messages even were after I finished.
One of my bigger struggles was that I found myself speeding through the book without really sinking into the story. It wasn’t that I didn’t care what was happening, but rather that I never felt fully pulled in. I kept waiting for the atmosphere or characters to grab me, but it just didn’t happen in the way I’d hoped.
All in all, this wasn’t a bad read, but it didn’t leave a lasting impression either. If you’re a fan of Harrow’s novels, you’ll likely enjoy this more than I did, but for me, it fell somewhere in the middle.