Where I End

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And as Rachel's time to depart from the island nears, and Aoileann father and grandmother find out she has been interacting with Rachel and her child, the story comes to a satisfyingly disturbing conclusion. Once Aoileann has worked out a plan, she decides that she is going to manipulate the situation so that she is able to leave the island with Rachel when she goes – Will she be able to adapt to mainland living, or is her mental health too badly damaged? And will Rachel live (or die) to regret her decision? The sea is death reanimated. Down under the shimmying surface, the currents conduct the corpses and they sway in a dance, ringed around the island’s underbelly.

By the time the first census was recorded, the mainlanders had settled on more ho-hum aversion: the islanders were ugly; they were poor; their Irish was incomprehensible. In spring 1931, the island was home to 187 souls. About ten families, all fishing and living a spartan existence. Where I End is an exceptionally unsettling but beautiful tale about the horrors that come in the every day for an isolated and stunted teenager called Aoileann. It's also about motherhood, the private disasters people endure, and the difference between living, surviving, and merely existing. As part of my review, I generally like to offer a short resume of the storyline as I see it, just to whet the appetite for what’s to come. However, to feature even a potted overview of this book, runs the risk of giving away too many spoilers, so I am going to keep this short piece deliberately vague, but believe me when I say that my words barely scratch the surface of this gripping story…The book is brilliantly paced, superbly tense (think Sleeping With the Enemy-tense) and the tale unspools to reach a terrifying climax. I was gripped at the beginning, filled with a sense of foreboding in the middle and rigid with fear for the last part. Holy smoke. Admirable to be able to evoke such feelings of terror in a reader. Wow. 4/5 ⭐️ For the island to prosper it needs tourism. The old knitting factory is to be turned into a museum, and

It seems useless to even try in this hateful place. The thing in the bed may even have the right idea: to succumb, to beg, to be ended. The thing in the bed is maybe privy to something. Or perhaps is just more willing than the others to face what this place is capable of. Aoileann’s mother and grandmother exist as emotionally empty human shells, whilst her father is so consumed by self-loathing, having convinced himself that he is the sole victim of this terrible tragedy, that Aoileann has grown up with only the company of the treacherous thoughts which race around in her own mind.This book is that feeling in words. It's visceral. It's stomach churning. It's horrifying. It's dread, and damp, and stale, and fusty. This book is fantastic in creepy setting and horrific situations, that are desperately sad and brutal all at the same time. The isolated island life, especially experienced through someone even further ostracised, was done so well and there were times I didn't know whether to hate the islanders for their ways or pity them.