I haven't been reading all too many thrillers recently, and even when I did, my go-to would be of the domestic noir variety. But, I made an exception for thIs book. I love books that have an element of mystique within them: the characters and the readers don't have the answers. That uncertainty doesn't always work but Lexie Elliott plays with it well. I plan to read her debut novel too.
This book was like a winding road, going on and on. We never know what was aiming next, if it'd make us gasp or jump. The uncertainty and lack of answers and definitive clues kept us attentive. It was a little like anything could happen at any given moment, and the fact that it hadn't happened yet just meant it was coming....
Aisla and her half-sister have just moved into Aisla's family home. Named The Manse, located in the Scottish Highlands. Their late mother never felt comfortable there, feeling as if she were being watched. Unwelcome. With her passing, Aisla has inherited the house and she wants to see what she's gained before she can sell it or rent it. She's not the sole owner though, as her absent (possibly dead) father's also got rights to the property. Her father, who she's not seen or heard from for nearly three decades.
I was drawn to this book because I love haunted houses (not sure if I could manage a night in one though!). Houses with personality. The kind that have you pondering about stuff you'd be a loon to think about. For awhile, my house had something akin to personality but then it went away: if I were sleeping alone in my bedroom, i'd still hear human breathing. Then, there was always something that sounded like knocks on the door (when I was half asleep) and when I'd open the door (never happened at night but in early mornings) or answer, no one would be there. The sounds of a door handle turning, but my handle would be still. Our the sound of a big object falling at night but in the morning everything would be in its rightful place. Little stuff, funny to recount but sounds worse when discussed at night.
But yes, I love such houses with a passion. The stories, the people inhabiting, the past... Elliot makes it so that the house itself, The Manse, is a character in its own right. It's subtle and not forced, so we're not always thinking about it. But it's there in the background, always watching and only often making its presence known. This worked incredibly well. As was the smart contrast: a house that is more present than Aisla's father. But both are still valuable characters.
The other characters, particularly Aisla had this intelligence that is often lacking in other mysteries, she was the thinking kind that more thrillers need, and was questioning everything and everyone, so when the massive twist occurred, we were all surprised. The character dynamics were also striking in how natural they read. Aisla imagining her father's life, reconnecting with her half sister, the people of the town she spent her early years...
For Elliott's writing, the house contributes to the setting and the atmosphere. It's ever present. You can't always remember after reading a book, where it was set. But with The Missing Years, you won't forget.
I received this book for review consideration. All opinions are honest, and completely my own.
This book was like a winding road, going on and on. We never know what was aiming next, if it'd make us gasp or jump. The uncertainty and lack of answers and definitive clues kept us attentive. It was a little like anything could happen at any given moment, and the fact that it hadn't happened yet just meant it was coming....
Aisla and her half-sister have just moved into Aisla's family home. Named The Manse, located in the Scottish Highlands. Their late mother never felt comfortable there, feeling as if she were being watched. Unwelcome. With her passing, Aisla has inherited the house and she wants to see what she's gained before she can sell it or rent it. She's not the sole owner though, as her absent (possibly dead) father's also got rights to the property. Her father, who she's not seen or heard from for nearly three decades.
I was drawn to this book because I love haunted houses (not sure if I could manage a night in one though!). Houses with personality. The kind that have you pondering about stuff you'd be a loon to think about. For awhile, my house had something akin to personality but then it went away: if I were sleeping alone in my bedroom, i'd still hear human breathing. Then, there was always something that sounded like knocks on the door (when I was half asleep) and when I'd open the door (never happened at night but in early mornings) or answer, no one would be there. The sounds of a door handle turning, but my handle would be still. Our the sound of a big object falling at night but in the morning everything would be in its rightful place. Little stuff, funny to recount but sounds worse when discussed at night.
But yes, I love such houses with a passion. The stories, the people inhabiting, the past... Elliot makes it so that the house itself, The Manse, is a character in its own right. It's subtle and not forced, so we're not always thinking about it. But it's there in the background, always watching and only often making its presence known. This worked incredibly well. As was the smart contrast: a house that is more present than Aisla's father. But both are still valuable characters.
The other characters, particularly Aisla had this intelligence that is often lacking in other mysteries, she was the thinking kind that more thrillers need, and was questioning everything and everyone, so when the massive twist occurred, we were all surprised. The character dynamics were also striking in how natural they read. Aisla imagining her father's life, reconnecting with her half sister, the people of the town she spent her early years...
For Elliott's writing, the house contributes to the setting and the atmosphere. It's ever present. You can't always remember after reading a book, where it was set. But with The Missing Years, you won't forget.
I received this book for review consideration. All opinions are honest, and completely my own.