Like a weird hybrid of Coco Mellor’s Blue Sisters and Ari Aster’s Hereditary with an apocalypse backdrop. If you were a fan of Our Wives Under the Sea and hoping for something similar, this isn’t really it. It’s a beautifully written piece of literary fiction about family dynamics after a loss, but I personally was hoping for a little more of the weirdness that Armfield’s previous novel had. I feel like this was marketed to be similar, but ultimately the more interesting pieces of this book were in the last fifty pages or so. It’s very meditative, interesting in some points and a bit slow at others. Ultimately I wanted more focus on the slow moving apocalypse, but most of the time it felt like an afterthought. Still a gorgeously written book and Armfield’s talent certainly shines.

Some really interesting ideas packed into this novel, but they aren't given much space. The characters are very flat and keep repeating themselves as the plot slowly inches forward. While I understand the dread and danger are slowly escalating on purpose, it doesn't have enough payoff for the book to end up being entertaining. The "horror" comes into play way too late and is very short lived. It just feels kind of pointless by the end and doesn't really give much to the retelling aspects.

Well, this was definitely not as great as <i> Our Wives Under the Sea </i>. To be fair, I really loved Julia Armfield's previous novel. So much so that when I saw this as an ARC, I checked my email constantly to see if I got it or not.

Armfield clearly loves water to a degree that I didn't think was possible. This novel follows the strained relationship of three sisters dealing with the death of their wealthy father during a dystopian future where it never stops raining. The chapters go back and forth between sisters and what is happening in the flooded city. I've never read about a future where water is ever present, so this was a nice change of pace.

<i>Private Rites</i> is classified as horror. Horror seems like a bit of a stretch. It was a bit spooky, especially if you, like me, are sadly moving through life with the looming threat of climate change ever present (113 degrees in California tomorrow).

Having multiple character point of views is a little jolting at times, but it does allow for some nice character development. I love how all sisters were in queer relationships - like, yes, thank you for this. As mentioned in the book, there are several families where all siblings are hetero and no one bats an eye. However, I do NOT appreciate the amount of times I read the word "tits" - it's one of the few words I loathe. It's my "moist".

All in all, I liked this. I had a good time. It just wasn't as beautifully done as her previous work. Thank you NetGalley and Fourth Estate for the ARC!

I don’t know how it is possible for something to be ethereal and yet deeply sunken at the same time, yet Julia Armfield does it with this novel. There is a deep longing, a type of desperation, which weighs all of our characters down, keeping them submerged, but at the same time if you try to hold on to them they seem like they have no choice but slip out of your grasp.

This novel is set in the (near?) future, in an unnamed, London-esque city, which is under water. The world is under water, the rains barely ever stop, and yet capitalism and modernity pause for no one, with the wealthy moving to higher and higher land, or building houses that can raise to match the waters’ depths, and the lower floors of skyscrapers are sacrificed and sealed off as everyone moves upward. There are attempts at infrastructure, elevated-rail trains and ferry-taxis, and the poor spend hours with social workers in government offices begging for a place to sleep. The waters are deepening, though, human ingenuity cannot keep up. This is the world Armfield invites us into, in an intimate story about three sisters navigating the death of their father. This contrast, this portrait of the external constantly invading the internal, runs throughout the story. What is the intimate melodrama of one family when the world is ending? Is a private apocalypse any more or less devastating than the public apocalypse?

The story cycles through the perspective of all three sisters, and Armfield explores ideas of inheritance, power, and relationship. Each sister is lost in her own world, none of them particularly happy. There is not a lot of plot, so to speak, but instead a deep relationship with this family; yet, as they are barely able to understand themselves, we are constantly left wanting, feeling their growing despondency as our own. The eldest sister, Isla, is constantly trying to control situations that are unable to be controlled. Irene, the middle, always has to be right, and has a razorblade for a tongue that can’t help but lash out, sowing the seeds of her own discontent with every word she utters. The youngest, Agnes, who has a different mother, is a decade younger and seems so focused on herself, so apathetic to everything and everyone else, that it is slowly destroying her. They share in common a monstrous father, one who we only know through their hazy memories of him. They all process his death differently, and Armfield paints a bleak picture of how the same solipsism that brought about the current climate disaster can also isolate oneself from others, from the best opportunity for reconciliation and growth that you may have. Our past traumas condition us to hide from the very things that can liberate us, and so we let them slowly, continually invade our lives, like a slow leak that floods one floor at a time.

This story is bleak. Yet, there is some hope: two ancillary characters, partners to two of the sisters, show us that not everyone is wracked with the same desolation as our protagonists. Even as the world sinks we have control over our hearts and minds. What does that hope mean for our sisters? It is hard to say. When reading across these three sisters, it feels like there is so much emotional weight it is hard to narrow down exactly what this story is about. But at its heart there is the question of relationships, to ourselves and to each. How we create them, sustain them, or let them molder. They can be the life rafts that keep us afloat or the stones in our shoes and pockets that sink us to the depths. Instead of giving any easy resolutions Armfield forces us to look inward and see what we hold dear, and ask ourselves, will it drag us down, or lift us up?

As I mentioned, there isn’t a strong plot in this novel, there aren’t necessarily a lot of things our protagonists have to do, per se, but the exquisite writing, both languid and fraught, pulls the reader deeper and deeper into the depths of what story there is. This story is focused on the characters, with there just being enough story and plot to keep them moving, to keep our attention, to let them grow and change, or at least face the prospect of it. It is not a story about action but reaction; notably the most dramatic event, the father’s death, happens before the story begins. Yet there are dreamscapes that weave their way through the story and come to a rather powerful and unexpected conclusion. Armfield manages to create a distinct world, develop intimate and relatable characters, and crash them up against each other in poetic, beautiful ways. The novel is quite affecting and meditative, and I am glad I had the chance to read it.

I want to thank the author, the publisher Flatiron Books, and NetGalley, who provided a complimentary eARC for review. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

We follow three queer sisters - Isla, Irene, and Agnes. They are coming together after the death of their elusive father, trying to get affairs in order as the world is cast in a grey, forever rainy state around them. The sisters have never been very close, but all share the same childhood trauma and questions that have never been answered.
This was my first book by Julia Armfield, so I was a bit blinded going into it. The writing was so descriptive, and every character was alive and real. The atmosphere of the city…. You could feel the oppressiveness constantly. A city where rain never stops, people are losing their homes, a depressing scene to say the least.
However, this book was so dreary, I fear it put me in a bit of a slump. It was very slow burn, and so many things were still left unsaid or unanswered. But, those last fifty or so pages…. The weirdness and the unsettling feelings it gave me… THAT was absolutely perfect. I want to wrap that ending off and send it to everyone I know because wow. If that wasn’t literary horror, I have no clue what is.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher who provided me with an ebook copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All of these thoughts and opinions are my own.

it's no secret that julia armfield has quickly become a favorite and auto-buy author for me, so i had been saving my ARC of private rites for a rainy day (no pun intended) and finally read it in a (successful!) attempt to kill the reading slump i've been in all month.

in typical julia armfield fashion, this was both hauntingly grim and quietly unsettling, but with plenty of hauntingly beautiful moments and realizations sprinkled throughout. i really thought this worked as a king lear retelling-- it captured the *~vibes~* of the original shakespeare play while still feeling wholly unique (and very queer). i would say there's less outright body horror in this book compared to julia armfield's other books and short stories, but there's just this general feeling of dread that pervades the entire book. i really loved the exploration of relationship dynamics (both familial and romantic) in private rites. it's the end of the world, so every relationship feels like it has massive stakes, but also cultivating relationships in a world like the one in this book feels necessary to maintain any sense of sanity?? i thought this was shown really effectively through all three main characters in this book.

the end of private rites, while i did see it coming, was chilling to the point where i finished the book and just said "oh my god." out loud to an empty room.

all in all, i really think anyone who's enjoyed julia armfield's other work will love this one. if you want to read a book about a quiet apocalypse that leaves you feeling equal parts doomed and hopeful, this one needs to be on your tbr.

thank you to the publisher for sending a digital ARC my way via netgalley in exchange for an honest review!

I loved Julia Armfield’s previous book SO much that I was nervous going in to this book, but I was not disappointed. Her writing is so absolutely jaw droppingly gorgeous; it itches something in my brain just right. This is a really grief-heavy book, which can be really hard to read. But it’s navigated with grace and empathy and is a really fantastic exploration of family, love, relationships, and emotion. I’m so excited to read more from this author.

This was a really interesting way to reimagine King Lear. I found myself interested, but I think that there were a few too many POVs for my taste.

Thank you NetGalley and Flatiron Books for the ARC in exchange for an honest review!

Julia Armfield is a wonderful writer, there's no denying that. However, this is the second book of hers that just hasn't quite hit for me. There are some fantastical and magical elements to them that if they'd been more fleshed out, could've been truly amazing, but I'm left severely wanting each time. Less wanting than her other book, for the ending of this one was good.

I loved the complicated sister dynamics and the impending apocalyptic world she created, so I finished the book, but at 80% when it felt like the plot was still barely moving, it grew super frustrating. I liked a lot of it, hence the rating, just probably won't pick up another book of hers. I think a disservice is done by marketing it as a horror novel - it keeps me wanting more and hoping for more. As a horror reader and lover, I don't feel it belongs there, but I suppose it's a subjective thing.

“Any horror story could be said to work in two pieces: the fear of being wholly alone and of realizing that one has company.“

julia armfield has DONE IT AGAIN!

i’m sure that no one is surprised that i loved, cherished, and devoured julia armfield’s third novel, PRIVATE RITES. i’ve been vocal about my love for OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA and SALT SLOW since i read them both a while back, and when an advanced copy of PRIVATE RITES arrived on my doorstep i dropped everything to pick it up.

this queer King Lear retelling is a slow, obliterating wave. following three sisters Isla, Irene, and Agnes (self-described as “King Lear’s dyke daughters”) in the wake of their father’s death, the novel explores their relationships as siblings, partners, and children in the wake of a quickly dissolving world drowning under the weight of never ending rain. the women are flawed and mean and selfish. they’re loving and careful and pensive. they’re cruel and soft when it matters, and they’re sisters even when the word seems to mean nothing.

armfield’s gorgeous prose fed me until i was full of it (just as it always does!) and left me wanting to sleep with the book beneath my pillow in hopes of taking it some of it’s beauty. there are many horrors in PRIVATES RITES—ecological and familial and spectral—but there is also love on every page, even when it comes with hurt. i loved it just as much as i hoped i would, and i’ll be chewing on that ending for years to come!

thank you so much to Flatiron Books for the gifted copy!

I really wanted to love this, but something didn’t fit quite right for me. Wonderful writing style, but the plot seemed difficult to remain engaged with at time.

You don't really think of an apocalypse being subtle, but that's exactly what this one is—a quiet drowning of the world while people grieve and often wonder why they keep going. It was definitely slow and character driven and spooky and led up to an incredible payoff, and though I couldn't tell exactly where it was going until the end, the writing was gorgeous, relatable, and I highlighted so many passages. Julia Armfield can keep writing her slow-burning queer watery horror forever and that will be fine with me!

This was unfortunately just not for me. I think the writing was lyrical and beautiful at times, but there was no plot and I wasn't invested in any of the 3 sisters at all. I think the climate dystopian setting could have been interesting, but the chapters about the collapse of the city were even more difficult for me understand. I have never read Armfield before, nor have I read King Lear, for which I believe this is loosely based on, so that could have been a determining factor. It does get credit for queer rep, but not enough to change my rating.

I loved the writing in this. I appreciated the sisters relating to each other and attempting to live in the world around them despite the deteriorating state of the world (which is very relatable). I love the atmospheric writing and the setting of this, and thank you for the opportunity to read this in advance, I will be recommending it to my friends (many of whom loved Our Wive Under the Sea).

the last 40 pages of this had me on the edge of my seat and now that i’ve finished i am completely empty and idk what to do or what to say and i’m emotional and all the things.

this novel was terrific in regards to sister relationships, grieving an abusive parent and that stillness of tension that starts slow and then moves up through body until you’re suffocating and don’t know what’s drowning you.

i—-

wow.

Julia Armfield is an absolute master of writing atmospheric, moody settings and queer relationships! Overall, I did enjoy this book for the most part, but the pacing of the story felt so off. Quite literally went from 0-100. Felt like we could've done with a little less character-building, and more backstory on the mysterious group and climate change. Will forever be a Julia Armfield fan, but this just wasn't my favorite.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this arc!!

A King Lear adaptation at the end of the world? Sign me up. Private Rites was one of my most anticipated books for 2024, and while it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, I still truly enjoyed it. Julia Armfield could write 15 books dealing with spooky water elements and I would pick up every one. Her prose is delicate, cutting, and moving depending on the moment, and the bond (or lack of) between the sisters shines. I also appreciated having the point of view of the City; as someone who thinks about the repercussions climate change (to my detriment) too often, this book terrified me and these sections helped to set the stage/add context beyond the very human relationships. The idea of the world continuing on while things fall apart and an everyday end stressed me out, but someone'll keep us working to the end of their days, so no surprise there. Both similar and different to Our Wives and Salt Slow, and would certainly recommend.

Thanks to Flatiron and NetGalley for the chance to read and review.

Private Rites truly puts the literary in literary fiction. This book is much heavier atmosphere than plot, evoking a looming sensation of drowning in slow motion.

I have mixed feelings regarding the pervasive melancholy. Let's be honest, it's not a fun feeling. It's not supposed to be! Even so, I found myself feeling worn down alongside the characters. The atmosphere is so well done that it affected me, but alsp made this a difficult read.

My favorite part was when I realized that the City is not just a setting, it's also a character. Each main character's name heads their chapters, including the City.

All things considered, I appreciate this book but am not in love with it. The writing simultaneously impressed me and made reading feel like trying to run through water.

I'm grateful for the chance to read this ARC for free. I'm leaving this review of my own accord.

Set in a near distant future, we find the earth slowly disappearing under a heavy rain. Sisters Isla, Irene and Agnes, largely estranged, live like those around them, generally ignoring and trudging through these potential end times. That is, until their father dies.

Thrown together, the sisters must now reckon with their father’s legacy as a controversial architect and abusive parent. As the women begin to recount their past, pieces come together to reveal a far more sinister childhood than they’d realized.

This book is brilliant. Despair seeps in like water through a crack, and yet, life trudges on. Armfield writes of no catastrophe, no panic, just a slow decline, mirrored in Isla, Irene and Agnes’ sisterhood. It’s definitely a slow burn, and it took me a lot longer to finish than expected, but I’m so glad I did.

There were a few elements I wish were more fleshed out, like the arcane rituals and a few of the mysterious happenings. I feel like we could have gotten away with a little less character building as well, and that may have given the book better momentum. Really though, these are personal preferences.

Armfield’s prose is always beautiful, though it seems she took a slightly more casual approach in this one than in Our Wives. It was interesting to see her range. She does, however, deliver on themes we’ve come to expect from Armfield: sisterhood, queer relationships, loss and despair.

If you’re willing to put in the work to let Armfield develop her characters, this one pays off with a banger of an ending. I’d highly recommend. 4.5★

I think this is an unfortunate case of right book, wrong person. Though I assure you, nobody is more devestated than I am that I am the wrong person in question.
I'm not alone in loving Julia Armfield's previous works. I lost my mind when I was approved to read this early. But I went into this with the wrong perception of what it was going to be.
This is a character study on grief and climate disaster, structured through short musings and sparse dialogue. There were some passages that were so gorgeously and intensely written, I found myself wishing everything else could be cut out.
Ultimately, I think this book will find the correct reader and blow them away. I will continue to reach for the author's titles in the future!