Kirkus Review

Johns deploys and transforms horror motifs in this haunting story of Indigenous survivance. "Before I look down, I know it's there. The crow's head I was clutching in my dream is now in bed with me." When her sister died, Mackenzie didn't go home to grieve with her family. But now, two years later, Sabrina is stalking Mackenzie in her dreams, dragging her back to a single night in their shared past. And when the boundary between this world and the dream world dissolves, Mackenzie knows that going back to rural Alberta--to her parents, her aunties, her cousins--is her only choice. Johns uses classic horror tropes to explore experiences that are specific to Indigenous people. For example, Mackenzie's attempt to avoid dealing with her sister's death results in psychic eruptions she can't control, but these disturbances aren't just personal--they resonate within her family, are reflections of her community, and are essentially connected to the land she grew up on. Similarly, while it would be easy to say that there are supernatural elements at work in this novel, that would reveal a fundamental misunderstanding about the malevolent forces Mackenzie and her family are fighting. The land emerges as a character here, and the hungry spirits plaguing Mackenzie are products of the same greed that sapped her community of its resources and left them with nothing when there was no more to take. The ghosts here are entirely natural, native to the setting of this novel and the worldview of its characters. A single death sets this story in motion, but Johns uses one lost life to explore generational trauma and the ways in which families and communities can break harmful cycles and heal themselves. At the same time, she delivers a narrative that is truly chilling and suspenseful. A powerful exploration of generational trauma and an artful, affecting debut. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.