fancy terrible: book reviews by fancy ladies

In a dusty corner of a basement in a rambling Victorian house in northern New Hampshire, a door has long been sealed shut with 39 six-inch-long carriage bolts. 

 

It all starts with a plane crash. Chip Linton is a pilot who makes his living flying small CRJs. Although his career isn’t progressing as quickly as he’d like, he makes a decent living and is good at what he does. One morning, a flock of geese become responsible for sending his plane into Lake Champlain. Unlike Captain Chesley Sullenberger and his landing on the Hudson, however, Chip doesn’t become a hero. 39 of the 48 passengers on the plane die, and Chip is plunged into a dangerous spiral of depression and guilt.

In an effort to escape the notoriety, he and his wife Emily move their twin daughters, Hallie and Garnet, to the small town of Bethel, New Hampshire, for a fresh start. Almost instantly, Emily begins to notice that the house that they bought and the neighbors who swarm on the family aren’t exactly the escape for which she’d hoped.

I thought this would be a thriller in the haunted-house-in-a-small-New-England-town variety. Little did I know it would end up being a thriller in the man-there-are-some-fucked-up-people-out-there variety.

I started off loving this business because the prologue was so freakin’ action packed and intense. It was like WAM. If you are a nervous flier, perhaps you should skip the prologue. I wouldn’t recommend skipping it, though. I inhaled it. It slows down a bit after that, but it doesn’t matter; you’re already hooked.

When the family moves to New Hampshire, we meet a host of characters who are a bit too friendly in helping the family settle in to their new home. In fact, another resident warns Emily of this odd clique, and it doesn’t take long after that to see that these aren’t your typical small-town nosy neighbors. These small-town nosy neighbors are weird and creepy and new age-y and are obsessed with the Linton twins. I was all squirmy reading some of the interactions between the adults and the children  (and, truth be told, the interactions between some of the adults).  I may have made notes at several differeint points that read “who the eff are these people?” and “what the eff are they doing??” I found myself rooting for the 10-year-olds. I also found myself thinking of Harry Potter. No, I’m not nuts. There are potions and divination and herbology . . . and even a sorcerer’s stone-type idea . . . but a lot creepier. Have I mentioned the creepiness already?

There is this weird narration thing going on, where it’s almost as if the pilot is talking to himself about everything that’s happening:

You really didn’t notice this when you were looking at the house with Emily and Sheldon. And so you track down the tape measurer in the carton with the tools you have been using as you settle into the house but have yet to  organize in some fashion in that basement made largely of dirt.

It’d be one thing if it was just in the prologue, but it continues throughout and I’m still not 100% sure that I like it. On one hand, it’s a bit disjointed. On the other hand, it differentiates Chip from every other character and makes clear the kind of out-of-body experience that he’s had after the plane crash. He’s distant, he’s depressed, and he’s frequently visited by some of the passengers on the plane. You know, the dead ones. He’s got a therapist, of course, to try and help him work through these issues. Until that therapist ends up dead. You know who his new therapist is? One of the weird and creepy and new age-y people.

All weird and creepy and new age-y-ness aside, there’s a sad thread running throughout the book between Chip and Emily. Within a marriage, both (or all, we’re too fancy to discriminate) parties are obviously dealing with their own issues, with the hope is that these issues are also shared with the partner(s). After the plane crash, however, Chip is dealing with all of his issues alone while Emily tries to readjust herself and the girls to their new digs. It’s rough to see one partner going through something that the other partner can’t share. It’s even worse when one partner is obsessed with a door in the basement that’s held shut with 39 bolts — the same number of passengers that died on his plane.

The end? Let’s talk about the end without talking about it. ’tis unexpected, and effing effed up.

If you’re looking for a typical ghost story, keep looking. I’ll admit, some of the twists took me places that I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. But it was entertaining and held my attention, so good (weird and creepy and new age-y) times.