The Language of Dying by Sarah Pinborough

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Riveting. Moved so smoothly from scene to scene, between past to present, I was carried along and desperate for the next tidbit, even when it was awful. And this story is full of mostly awful things, a woman’s sad and angry remembrances of her life up to this point, the week of her father’s death. Cutting through all the disappointment and the rapidly unraveling sibling bonds is her hope for the return of a dark creature that might carry her away from a continued life of heartache, loneliness, and missed chances. The book pitch sounded to me like this was a “something lurking in the dark” story, so I expected a shivering and stalking sort of gothic haunting, but instead I found melancholy longing twisted up with barely suppressed rage. This story lures you in with soft sorrow and beautiful language and then twists all the sharp objects you didn’t realize were being pushed between your ribs. I loved it.

Read on: December 29, 2020

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