Even Your Bones Would Do Book Review and Summary
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Anna Kowalska - 02 Sep, 2026 20:06
Author: Claire Schultz
Page Count: Unknown
Publication Date: Expected publication 2026 APL
Gilded cages and the blue-black beards of men who think they own the world. It’s an old tune, really. Even Your Bones Would Do promises a Gothic plunge into the 1929 economic collapse, yet it seems determined to recycle the same tired tropes found in a mid-shelf Shirley Jackson knock-off. April Harker—a name that sounds like it was generated by a malfunctioning Victorian porcelain doll—is apparently whisked away from financial ruin into a marriage that screams “I have a basement full of bodies and a very poor understanding of consent.”
The Aesthetics of Unease
Does a house need to move its hallways to be scary? That feels like a cheap parlor trick for a narrative that should be focusing on the crushing desperation of post-Crash survival. If the house is just a shifting labyrinth, why bother with the historical setting? It’s giving “I watched one episode of The Haunting of Hill House and decided I was an auteur.” The lipstick-stained teacups feel like a garnish added to a dish that hasn’t actually been cooked yet. It is essentially visual flavor-text masquerading as a plot point.
Spectral Solidarity
The introduction of Marie, this spectral companion, is where my interest—slight as it is—picks up, if only because it suggests a Sapphic escape from the patriarchy. Because God forbid a female protagonist find liberation through anything other than a literal ghost. It’s a bit basic, honestly. The genre is currently infested with “trapped woman discovers husband is a total psycho” narratives, and this feels like it’s chasing that Mexican Gothic vibe without the teeth. Will it be a masterclass in atmospheric dread? Or just a glorified fanfic for people who think wearing velvet is a substitute for a personality?
The synopsis is infuriatingly vague about the nature of the “infinite rooms.” Is this a metaphor for the infinite ways a man can gaslight his spouse? Probably. I suspect the mid-point will devolve into a messy, CGI-brained spectacle where the house itself becomes the antagonist, leaving the character development to rot in the foyer.
I’m predicting a third-act twist that centers on bloodlines or ancestral curses, because originality is currently on sabbatical in the publishing world. It’s a total snooze-fest setup that thinks it’s profound because it throws in some spectral teacups. If you’ve read your Du Maurier, you’ve already read this book, just with less prose-induced nausea. I suppose I’ll have to suffer through the inevitable media blitz when the advance copies start hitting the desks of people who actually get excited by “lyrically haunting” blurbs.
My tea is stone cold and my patience is entirely depleted, much like the promise of this plot. I must now turn my attention to reviewing the exhausting itinerary for my European book tour. There are simply too many trains to catch and far too few decent aperitifs on the schedule.
