The narrator for this book was a miss for me. I got used to her voice after some time and found it difficult to comprehend at slightly higher speeds.

There wasn’t much distinction between characters and I had to rewind often to differentiate who said what. After a while I gave up and relied heavily on the text. Most unfortunate.

This does not however take away from the story, which I’ve given a 3. The star rating here is based solely on narration for this ALC.

This book followed an Asian girl during COVID who sees her sister die in the worst possible way and the author is very descriptive. Cora ends up being a crime scene cleaner and notices all these other Asians being murdered, but no one is doing anything about it. I can only imagine how true this was and I feel so bad for the Asian community. Being hassled just because of your ethnicity. We really do live in a cruel world.

The narrator did an excellent job between the main characters able to understand who is speaking at which time. She is able to show the emotion of what Cora or the other characters are dealing with at the time.

As previously stated, I would kill for Cora. But I would die for Yifei. I didn't expect such a distinct and lovable trio, but our narrator makes them so funny and eccentric, it's hard not to root for them.

This is an effortless listen. The most difficult part of it will be trying not to let the nausea overtake you from certain descriptions.

Give this a listen. Maybe in between meals.

'Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng' is an exploration of grief, identity and hate wrapped up in a gripping ghost story.

Cora Zeng is living through the end of the world as Covid crashes through New York City, bringing with it a rising tide of fear and anti-Asian hate crimes. Following the violent death of her sister, Cora finds herself working as a crime scene cleaner in Chinatown, where her and her coworkers are noticing an alarming amount of Asian women being brutally murdered in their homes. Possible serial killers aren't the only thing going bump in the dark, though - a ghost haunts Cora, lurking in the shadows and tapping on the walls. And it is *hungry*.

This is my first taste of pandemic horror, and it hit me unexpectedly hard as a New Yorker. Kylie Lee Baker captured the fear and uncertainty of the Covid outbreak in New York, but specifically focused on how hard that time was for Asian-Americans who had become a focal point for that fear and uncertainty. Anti-Asian hate crimes jumped up during the pandemic as people turned their fear into hate over the "China virus", which Baker allows readers to experience through the narrative. The story is gory, violent, and tragic, but also humorous and heartfelt. The audiobook narrator, Natalie Naudus, did an excellent job conveying emotion and urgency, adding additional depth to the story that left me in tears one moment and laughing out loud the next.

One last thing - one of the last lines of the author's note at the end of the book really stuck with me, and I wanted to share it, especially in times like these:

"Do not let your empathy stop at the borders of your own community."

#NetGalley

This is a book that may not be for everyone, but it is a book that everyone should read. I do not typically read horror, because I am usually sensitive to graphic violence, but I’m so glad that I decided to take a chance on this story.

But the scariest thing in this book are not the ghosts, it is the people. Bat Eater perfectly encapsulates the feeling of a sense of community being stripped away by isolation, suspicion, and misplaced blame. The main character, Cora Zeng, a Chinese-American living in New York City, gives a memorable perspective of what it’s like to be on the receiving end of racial scapegoating, and what hate can look like when emboldened. The murder-mystery aspect is not only for the thrills, but it’s a metaphor of systematic racism that packs a punch, and isn’t afraid to do so.

Speaking of powerful metaphors- let's talk ghosts. I loved the nod to Chinese folklore with these hungry ghosts that genuinely creeped me out. Their vivid descriptions are so viscerally effective, I found myself hesitantly peeking into dark corners while listening. Tying hungry ghosts to Cora’s grief and the questioning of her own cultural identity is effective and chilling.

I’m so grateful for the opportunity to listen to this story performed by Natalie Naudus. Naudus does a fantastic job giving voice to Cora’s inner turmoil and makes character differentiation easy with successful changes in inflection and tone. This is an instance where a great narrator heightens the tension and suspense in the best ways, making Bat Eater a more impactful read.

Unsettling in the best ways, this story doesn’t rely solely on jump scares to deliver a powerful message. I will be thinking about this one for a long time.

I felt the pace was fast initially and slowed down until about 60/70%. The action really picked up and I could feel my heart racing waiting to find out what happens next. I quite literally screamed in my car...

Kylie did a wonderful job with crafting a horror story with Chinese folklore on ghosts around covid/pandemic, aapi violence, grief, mental health difficulties, racism, and corporation corrution. I felt angry, frustrated, enraged, and this feeling of sadness in the end.

I need to say... I don't typically read horror and I have come to realize I need emotional connections to the characters to feel the story as a blue/yellow reader. I wasn't feeling connected to Cora and the side characters.

Overall I enjoyed the book and would recommend to other horror readers.

Thank you to Harlequin Audio for the ALC!

*Thank you to Harlequin Audio and NetGalley for the ALC! Opinions are my own.*

4.75/5

I loved this from minute one. The tension built between Cora and Delilah feels so real and tangible. Sisterly relationships are ones that are deeply unique. You can't possibly know that dynamic unless you have a sister yourself. Then, there's the layers to the horror within this novel. You have gore, certainly. But there are paranormal elements as well. And there is *absolutely* psychological and social horror at play. It comes at you from all angles.

The true marvel is that despite all of these layers, Kylie Lee Baker never once struggles to balance them all. There was no point where I felt like the plot was muddled or convoluted. This book never feels like it's trying too hard. It forces you to face the horrors head-on without ever being gratuitous.

This is one I'd recommend to a wide range of people too. Just enough crime-solving for the mystery crowd. The horror is horrifying enough for the horror fans, but not so inaccessible that general fiction enjoyers or other miscellaneous recommendation seekers might be put off.

This novel is incisive, unflinching, and honest. It never lets up and for good reason; it has something important to say. Highly recommend a look at this one.

I cried through most of this book. It is written really well and just so tragic. I know this is fiction but there are so many truths buried within. COVID brought out the worst in people and racist jerks really thought they were safe. This book is such an important read and everyone should read it, but if you have triggers make sure to check out TWs.

Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng takes place during the pandemic in NYC. The story follows Cora and the struggles she faces as a Chinese American woman during lockdown. Asian women are being murdered and no body seems to care because to the white men of the world, they are the cause of the virus. The book handles a horrific topic and the author's own experiences during COVID and in life.

I wish that the human race wasn't so awful and that this book was purely fiction, but unfortunately we live in a cruel reality where hate and fear run rampant.

This is an emotional and haunting read. Kylie Lee Baker masterfully weaves themes of grief, identity, and discrimination into a uniquely gripping narrative, set against the backdrop of a pandemic.
I didn’t know exactly what to expect going in, but I wasn’t disappointed. The story throws you in from the very first chapter, and I was hooked instantly. The author doesn’t hold back, immersing the reader in Cora’s intense journey right away, which only amplifies the horror elements.
Highly recommended for horror fans looking for something fresh, emotional, and thought-provoking.

I made several mistakes when I started this book. I started it while I was sick, I also started it at night, and I was home alone. I started to feel like I was being watched and became paranoid of the shadows. All this to say I love this book! That is the exact feeling I want when I’m listening to a horror book! This being based during Covid times I was hesitant to start it but this was so much better than I could have ever expected it to be!

“Closing your eyes doesn’t stop monsters from devouring you.”

This was such an emotional roller coaster. It was so eye opening seeing the pandemic through the lens of someone who would’ve experienced all of the hate and discrimination. Not only was the writing done beautifully but the audiobook performance was fantastic. The story was haunting and heartbreaking.

Alright, horror fiends, buckle up for a ride through the gore-soaked, ghost-haunted streets of Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng by Kylie Lee Baker. This novel is a savage blend of supernatural chills, real-world rage, and enough blood to make your average slasher flick look like a kid’s cartoon. It’s a book that’ll grab you by the throat, spit in your face, and leave you thinking about it long after you’ve scrubbed the imaginary viscera off your hands. Let’s dive in.

Kylie Lee Baker’s no stranger to weaving dark tales with cultural depth. A mixed-race Chinese-American writer, she’s got a knack for blending folklore with visceral storytelling, as seen in her YA duology The Scarlet Alchemist and The Keeper of Night. With Bat Eater, she steps into adult horror, and holy shit, does she deliver. Baker’s background informs her work—her perspective as an Asian-American woman navigating identity and systemic bullshit seeps into every page. She’s got a master’s in creative writing, which probably explains why her prose cuts like a well-sharpened cleaver, and she’s not afraid to tackle heavy topics like racism and grief while throwing in hungry ghosts that’d make your grandma shit her pants. Baker’s the kind of author who’d probably laugh at her own jump scares, and I’m here for it.

Set in New York City during the COVID-19 lockdown of 2020, Bat Eater follows Cora Zeng, a Chinese-American woman who’s barely holding it together after witnessing her sister Delilah get shoved in front of a subway train by a racist asshole screaming “bat eater.” Yeah, it’s as brutal as it sounds. Months later, Cora’s scraping by as a crime scene cleaner—mopping up blood and guts in Chinatown while dodging germs like they’re the goddamn plague (pun intended). But shit gets weirder when she starts noticing bat carcasses at murder scenes, all of them East Asian women. Oh, and she’s being haunted by a hungry ghost—straight out of Chinese folklore—that’s chomping on her coffee table and clawing at her sanity. As Cora teams up with her coworkers Harvey and Yifei, she’s racing against a serial killer, her own trauma, and spirits who don’t take kindly to being ignored. It’s a horror show wrapped in a mystery, with a side of brutal societal commentary.

Bat Eater layers themes so thick you’ll need a hazmat suit to wade through them. At its core, it’s about grief—Cora’s drowning in it after Delilah’s death, and the hungry ghosts are a screaming metaphor for unresolved pain. These spirits, rooted in Chinese mythology, embody the forgotten dead, gnawing at the living until they’re remembered. It’s like Baker’s saying, “Ignore your trauma, and it’ll eat your damn furniture.”

Then there’s racism, and fuck, does this book lay it bare. The title Bat Eater is a vicious nod to the anti-Asian slurs hurled during COVID, blaming Chinese people for the virus. Bats, left at crime scenes, symbolize this dehumanization—pests to be exterminated, just like the killer sees his victims. Baker doesn’t sugarcoat the xenophobia Cora faces, from spit in her face to slurs carved into her psyche. It’s raw, real, and makes you want to punch a wall.

Mental illness weaves through Cora’s OCD and germaphobia, amplified by the pandemic’s paranoia. Her compulsions—sanitizing everything, fearing contamination—are a mirror to society’s fear of the “other.” The hungry ghosts could be read as hallucinations, but Baker’s too smart to pull a cheap “it’s all in her head” twist. Instead, she balances the supernatural with psychological horror, leaving you questioning what’s scarier: the ghosts or Cora’s unraveling mind.

Community sneaks in through Cora’s reluctant bonds with Harvey and Yifei. They’re the found family she didn’t ask for, cracking dark jokes while scrubbing bloodstains. It’s a reminder that even in hell, connection keeps you sane—or at least keeps you from becoming ghost chow.

Symbolically, the subway is a claustrophobic stand-in for Cora’s trapped existence—always moving, never escaping. The Hungry Ghost Festival, ignored by Cora at her peril, underscores the cost of disconnecting from culture. Baker’s saying, “Forget your roots, and you’re fucked,” but she does it with style, not a lecture.

Bat Eater screams a message: systemic racism kills, and society’s complicity is the real monster. Baker’s author’s note calls out the U.S. government’s shitshow pandemic response and the scapegoating of Asians. Cora’s fight against a serial killer mirrors the broader battle against hate crimes, where justice is a pipe dream. The lack of a neat resolution—sorry, no Scooby-Doo unmasking here—drives home the point: real-world horrors don’t always get a tidy ending. It’s a bold “fuck you” to the idea that everything’s fine now that COVID’s “over.” Baker wants you to feel the rage, the grief, and the urgency to do better, and she’s not subtle about it. Good. Subtlety’s overrated when you’re wading through blood and bat guts.

Baker’s prose is a thing of beauty, like a perfectly executed disemboweling. She’s got a lyrical edge that makes even the goriest scenes—crunching bones and oozing viscera—read like poetry. She has vivid descriptions; you’ll smell the coppery blood and hear the ghosts’ claws scratching. Her dialogue’s sharp, with Harvey and Yifei tossing out dark humor that’s like a life raft in the shitstorm. Cora’s internal monologues can drag (more on that later), but they’re raw, capturing her anxiety with suffocating precision.

Baker’s pacing is a bit like a drunk driver—thrilling but uneven. The opening chapter’s a sledgehammer, and the last 20% is a relentless sprint, but the middle sags like a deflated corpse. Still, her ability to blend folklore, gore, and social commentary without tripping over her own feet is impressive as hell.

Strengths:
- Horror That Hurts: The ghosts are creepy as fuck—think The Grudge meets Junji Ito—but the real terror is the racism and grief. Baker makes you feel both, no mercy.
- Cultural Depth: The Hungry Ghost Festival and Chinese folklore are woven in seamlessly, educating without preaching. It’s a love letter to heritage wrapped in barbed wire.
- Characters You Root For: Cora’s a mess, but you’ll cheer for her. Harvey and Yifei are the buddies you’d want in a zombie apocalypse—funny, loyal, and not too judgy when you’re losing it.
- Social Commentary: This book’s got balls, tackling anti-Asian hate head-on. It’s a wake-up call.
- Gore Galore: If you love your horror bloody, Baker delivers. Crime scenes are described with a relish.

However, Bat Eater trips over a few bones. The pacing is a big gripe—after a killer start, the middle gets repetitive, with Cora cleaning one too many crime scenes. It’s like watching a slasher flick where the killer takes a nap. It's a bit YA-ish; the dialogue occasionally feels like it’s auditioning for a teen drama, which jars with the adult themes.

The serial killer plot doesn’t fully land. It’s gripping, but the resolution’s rushed, and not knowing the killer’s identity feels like a tease gone wrong. A few plot holes—how do these bats keep showing up?—make you raise an eyebrow.

Cora herself can be a drag. Her dullness is intentional, reflecting grief, but spending half the book in her mopey head gets old. She’s overshadowed by Delilah’s memory, and yeah, it’s hard to care about someone who’s barely there.

Finally, the dual narratives—ghosts vs. murders—don’t always mesh. Sometimes it felt like two stories were fighting for space, and the supernatural can overshadow the real-world horror, diluting the impact.

Ultimately, though, Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng is a brutal, beautiful beast of a book. It’s not flawless but it’s got more heart and guts than most horror novels dare to show. Baker’s a fearless storyteller, blending Chinese folklore with the raw pain of racism and grief in a way that’ll leave you haunted and pissed off in the best way. For horror fans who want their scares with a side of social reckoning, this is your jam.

I wasn't sure what I was getting into when the book started, but the more I read, the more I was hooked. Such an amazing book about grief, racism, corporation corruption, ghosts, culture, and so much more. It sounds like a lot for a 304 page book, but Kylie Lee Baker balanced it all so well. I highly recommend this book to all who love a good horror book.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for an audiobook copy in exchange for my honest review.

This chilling story follows Cora, a young woman who’s supposed to be attending NYU. Set in New York City during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, the novel opens with a horrifying moment: while she and her sister Delilah are waiting at a subway station, a man suddenly pushes Delilah onto the tracks. Tragically, Cora witnesses her sister’s death. I wish I could say, “and that night marks the beginning of her nightmare,” but it turns out, she’s been living in her own private torment for a while now.

In the aftermath, Cora struggles to move forward. She visits her aunt to continue getting financial support to continue her education at NYU, and takes a job as a crime scene cleaner alongside Henry and Yifei, cleaning up scenes of violent deaths. It’s a grim job, but it’s also where we learn something more chilling, Cora can sense ghosts, and she’s been seeing a psychiatrist about her disturbing visions. She discovers she’s being haunted by a “hungry ghost,” a spirit from Chinese folklore that arises when the dead are forgotten by the living. These ghosts make their presence known through terrifying physical manifestations such as biting coffee tables, clawing at your side, and tormenting until the person remembers them. This is why it was so frustrating when Cora refused to listen to the advice of her aunt and refused to prepare for the Hungry Ghost Festival.

As Cora spirals deeper into fear and uncertainty, another new threat emerges: a serial killer targeting Asian victims. She feels herself slipping further into madness. There were moments I wanted to reach through the page and shake her, to urge her to speak up, to fight, but I also deeply empathized with her grief and fear. My heart absolutely broke for her when she fell and as the stranger bent down, he reached out and took her mask off, only to spit into her face, muttering racial slurs.

The narrator brings the story to life with gripping intensity, and the author does a phenomenal job keeping you hooked. Like the hungry ghost haunting Cora, this story refused to let me go until it was sure I had seen—and felt—everything it had to offer. Even after finishing it, I’m still haunted by its impact.

Many thanks to Harlequin Audio and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for my honest review.

Wow. This book truly left me speechless, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions—anger, shock, sadness, fear, heartbreak, and just a sliver of hope. And while many of those feelings might sound negative, there is absolutely nothing bad about this book. The writing is stunning. I fell hard for the characters, and though the story is often brutal and gruesome, I couldn’t tear myself away. It delivered everything I could have hoped for in a mystery/horror novel—and then some.

I usually steer clear of pandemic-themed stories. Living through it once was more than enough, and I rarely want to relive that experience through fiction. But this book? It’s the exception. It boldly confronts the horrors of systemic racism—both during the height of COVID and in its lingering aftermath. Some scenes made me want to scream on behalf of Cora and the countless girls like her.

And yet, it’s Cora—and the haunting ghost story braided through the streets of a pandemic-era NYC—that make this novel shine. Many of us saw pieces of ourselves in Cora during that time: scared, isolated, anxious about the unknown, terrified for our loved ones, retreating into the safety of our homes. But Cora is also a survivor, even when she doesn’t see it in herself. Her friendships— my dear Harvey and Yifei—offered unexpected warmth and levity, lighting up an otherwise heavy, emotionally intense narrative.

As for the audiobook, it was perfection. Natalie Naudus delivers a phenomenal performance, capturing the emotional weight of the characters and the story with remarkable nuance. She brings every moment to life in a way that lingers long after the final chapter.

This horror novel is perfectly gory and well-paced. Bat Eater is an examination of Sinophobia, grief, and mental illness all rolled into a superb ghost story. Baker excels at writing the reader into Cora’s mind and immersing us into the thick of the trauma. Bat Eater is serial killer mystery that finishes strong, this unique story is not to be missed!

Overall: 3.5/5
Narration: 4/5

Big thanks to Harlequin Audio and NetGalley for the ALC—I truly enjoyed the narration and thought the narrator did a fantastic job capturing Cora’s inner turmoil and grief. She also showed strength in creating a strong distinction between the surrounding characters in the book. In my opinion this would make for a great audiobook listen on its own. Though, as an immersive reader, I always recommend pairing the audio with the physical/digital book for the full experience.

Now, this story starts off with a bang—and I mean that literally. Cora and her sister Delilah are on a subway platform when Delilah is shoved in front of an oncoming train by a stranger. The attack is sudden, brutal, and vivid. This read doesn’t fall short in bringing you a lot of gory and visceral scenes that I think definitely make this a solid entry into horror for the author. We then follow Cora as she tries to process this loss and lives in the shadow of her someone’s death. Some readers have said they found Cora dull or overshadowed by Delilah, even in death, but I think that was intentional. This story captures the weight of grief and trauma. Especially an experiencing that kind of loss without justice. As readers, it also place an importance not forgetting Delilah or what happened to her.

I think the author made a unique and interesting choice by making Cora crime scene cleaner. It introduces great conversation on her relationship with brutality and death. Both desensitized to it and traumatized by it. It’s while doing this work that she begins to notice a disturbing pattern—East Asian women are being killed, their bodies left behind with strange calling cards: bats. (Here I’ll remind you that this book doesn’t hold back in being visceral and descriptive.) Cora begins to think that the killer may be the same person who murdered her sister! The same killer whose final words were “bat eater” as they fled the scene some time ago.

I don’t think I’ll be alone in saying that the gore, thrill, and suspense of the serial killer wasn’t my favorite part. But what stood out most to me wasn’t those traditional horror elements—it was the real-life horror this book shines a light on. This book holds up a mirror to the rise in anti-Asian sentiment, particularly against East Asian communities, following the COVID pandemic. The commentary is sharp and necessary. It reminded me of the treatment of Muslim and Arab communities post-9/11—how a wave of misinformation, hate, and scapegoating created long-lasting wounds that still haven’t healed. The book doesn't shy away from showing how violence can be both physical and systemic, and how society often refuses to hold itself accountable.

The title Bat Eater is brilliant in this context—highlighting the dehumanization of Asian people, and forcing readers to look at how quickly cruelty can become normalized. This is a horror story, yes—but as the author notes, the biggest horror is that it reflects a reality many are still living in. While I do think a lot of readers will be frustrated by the end, there’s a deliberate weight to the lack of justice and accountability that so many communities of color know too well.

Now, you might be wondering why I gave it 3.5 stars instead of 4 or 5 if I liked the concept that much. Well, I had to big annoyances about the book. First, the book reads like a YA novel despite its heavy themes and gory content. I don’t mind YA at all, but the dialogue and reactions sometimes felt too young for the tone the book was going for. Second, after such a gripping beginning, the middle of the book started to drag. The book starts off with this horrendous action and put the reader on edge, hoping to uncover who is behind this. It transitions to a point where there’s a lot of repetition—Cora finds another body, and another—and while I understand the need to emphasize the ongoing threat, the pacing felt uneven. Things only really picked up again toward the end and I would’ve preferred a more consistent pace throughout.

That said, I still recommend this book, especially for readers looking for horror that does more than just scare—it informs. Anyone reading this will surely leave with something! Something to think about further and something to enjoy.

Bat Eater follows the titular Cora Zeng- following her sisters violent death during the Covid-19 pandemic, Cora begins noticing odd things happening in her apartment. At the same time, she has picked up a job as a crime scene cleaner, and is noticing a staggering uptick in violent deaths of other eastern Asian women.

On the surface, Bat Eater isn’t something I should have enjoyed- I typically don’t like pandemic books, or horror mixed with humor, or the suggestion of psychological horror- nonetheless this somehow ended up being exactly my cup of tea!

The pandemic part of the story is really not the focus- and is more of a backdrop for the more horrific plot lines of the hungry ghosts, and the rash of serial murders Cora has found herself enmeshed in.

Also- yes, Hungry Ghosts- instead of pulling some psychological thriller bs and saying “it was all in Cora’s head” (I hate when authors do that with my whole heart) Baker doubles down and said ‘nope- I’m giving you actual supernatural ghosts, based in Chinese mythology, that can also be read as an allegory for dealing with grief”. 10/10 Kylie Lee Baker- no notes, I loved that.

Baker also succeeds in blending humor into the story through the interactions between three of our main characters, who talk to each other like scared baby adults who are in way over their heads, but are trying their best to come with humor that actually lands, but is a thin disguise for the terror they feel.

Bat Eater is also full of very obvious commentary, and has things to say about the US governments pandemic response, the scapegoating and treatment of East Asians during the pandemic, and the police response and treatment to minorities- just to name a few things. Baker also makes a statement in her authors note in solidarity with other minorities, and specifically criticizes the US pandemic response. Not only can she allude to it in her books, she stood on business and made sure there was no ambiguity, which deserves appreciation outside the scope of whether I liked the book or not.

Just in the spirit of full disclosure- I did have a few small nitpicks with pacing and potential plot holes. The beginning of the book hooks you in quickly, but then it felt like it took until ~40% of the way through the book before the plot started to pick back up again. It also reaches a pretty breakneck pace at the end, which wasn’t a problem- BUT I do kind of feel like the speed the plot moved served to smooth out some plot conveniences that I think I would have looked harder at, if I hadn’t been so focused on what was going to happen next.

Also- since this was an audio arc, I should mention- I thought the narration was good. If you want to read this on audio, it’s worth the listen, but I don’t think you get anything extra out of it that would make audio a significantly better experience than physically reading. (Basically, pick this up in any form you choose- they’re both equally good)

Anyways- that’s how I came to the 4.25 rating! I’d recommend this to anyone interested, with the warning that it does contain quite a bit of gore and body horror- but if you can handle that, I think most horror fans will really enjoy this one! It releases on 4/29!

This book seemed like 2 separate stories that rarely came together. In fact, if the MC wasn't a part of both stories, they wouldn't connect at all.

There's the story about MCs life as a crime scene cleaner, cleanin up murders of Asian women. This is during the pandemic, or the aftermath, so these are racially targeted murders. Then, there's the ghost story of the MC's murdered sister who was also a victim of racially charged motivations. And there are other ghosts.

I enjoyed both stories separately, but I couldn't cohesively connect them. I would get wrapped up in one story only to be swepted away to the other and that would upset me. Even during the last chapters, I became a bit confused with her revelations.

Enjoyed it, but the balance was off. The overall subject is sad and the murders were grim. I wish tje ghost aspect would have taken a backseat and not been as prominent. It takes you out of the storry.

It was creepy, though.

I agree with so many readers before me, this is WILD. I was very excited by the premise and the execution did not disappoint. As a horror novel and a discussion of racism, it was fantastic.