This book feels like a debut, in the sense that it’s raw and somewhat promising, but ultimately it ended up being unpolished. I was truly shocked to find out that this is one of seven published works for Brinn.

There’s a lot here that caught my attention at first: an incredibly dark premise, graphic and visceral writing, and a concept that toes the line between horror and psychological descent. But that interest was dulled by a few critical flaws that made it difficult to stay immersed. If this weren’t for a book club, I’d have DNF’d along the way.

Let’s start with the physical reading experience. I picked up a hard copy, and I cannot overstate how much the font choice ruined it for me. It’s giving Comic Sans (or at least something dangerously close). It’s completely unreadable in print, and if you’re going to give this one a shot, grab a digital version; I beg of you. The formatting makes a huge difference in how you take in a story, and in this case, it almost tanked it entirely.

Now, on the writing itself: I didn’t hate it. In fact, I think Brinn has an interesting voice, and she clearly isn’t afraid to dive into the grotesque. There’s something visceral and fearless about the body horror in this, and while it’s not for the faint of heart, it does hit hard when it wants to. The twist had potential, but it wasn’t fully explored. Instead of elevating the story, it sort of just… existed, like another checkbox in a plot that didn’t seem entirely sure of itself.

There are a lot of loose ends. The characters drift in and out with vague motivations, and while the pacing isn’t the worst I’ve seen in indie horror, it lacks the tightness that could’ve made the concept sing. It ends up feeling more like a shadow of a great idea than the thing itself.

That all being said, I’ll keep an eye out for what Brinn writes next. There’s something in her tone that intrigues me, and I do think she’s got stories worth telling.

2 1/2 stars, and that’s a generous rating that’s really based on the premise alone.