The One We Buried Book Review and Summary
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Piotr Nowak - 29 Aug, 2026 08:21
Author: Kate Alice Marshall
Page Count: Unknown
Publication Date: Expected publication 2026 APL
The rain’s been falling sideways for three days now, like the sky’s trying to erase the subway’s grime with something more deliberate—something that might actually wash away the smell of wet concrete and regret. And here I am, hunched over a laptop in a seat that’s seen better decades, staring at this The One We Buried synopsis like it’s a half-eaten sandwich someone left on the bench beside me. Because let’s be honest, the fact that Kate Alice Marshall—who somehow turned What Lies in the Woods into a cult favorite for people who like their psychological horror served with a side of existential dread—is doing this again is either genius or a cry for help. Maybe both.
The premise is the kind of thing that makes you pause mid-swipe on your feed, fingers hovering over the screen like you’re about to press “like” but instead you’re just waiting for the universe to confirm that yes, this is actually happening. Four girls, thirteen years ago, shipped off to some godforsaken wellness retreat in the hills—Sanctuary Springs, because of course it’s got a name that sounds like a Hallmark card for people who’ve already lost their souls. Dr. Elizabeth Sheffield and her daughter Rachel, the enigmatic duo running the show, promise these girls a rebirth. And what do you know? They get one. But not the kind where they just learn to meditate and stop eating their feelings. No, this is the kind of rebirth that comes with a side of ritual, transformation, and—oh yeah—murder. Because if you’re going to rewrite your life, you might as well do it with a little blood on your hands.
The synopsis doesn’t give us the gory details, of course. It’s all vague, which is either a masterclass in leaving the reader hungry or just lazy writing. But the way it’s framed—“troubled girlhood, ritual, transformation—and murder”—sounds like it’s trying to be Yellowjackets meets Nine Perfect Strangers, which is either a brilliant mashup or a recipe for tonal whiplash. Marshall’s last book had that same air of suffocating intimacy, the kind where the reader is left wondering if they’re in on the secret or if they’re just another pawn in whatever game these characters are playing. And the fact that Nic returns to Sanctuary Springs after her fiancé’s murder? That’s the kind of setup that makes you lean in, because the question isn’t just what happened that summer, but what did they become? And more importantly, what are they willing to do to stay that way?
The synopsis also drops hints about Talia’s wellness retreat, which is basically the sanitized, Instagram-friendly version of whatever dark magic happened back then. It’s the kind of thing that makes you think of The Secret History’s Baileys, only with more hot springs and less academic pretension. And the way the group “flirts with old rites and rituals”? That’s the kind of phrasing that makes you wonder if Marshall’s channeling something deeper, something about the way trauma gets rebranded as enlightenment. Because let’s face it, the wellness industry is just the modern-day equivalent of a cult, and if there’s one thing Marshall knows how to do, it’s make the ordinary feel like it’s hiding something monstrous beneath the surface.
But here’s the thing—this synopsis is so vague that it’s almost too vague. It’s like reading a menu where every dish is just “meat” or “vegetables.” We don’t know if the murder is connected to the past or if it’s just another layer of the girls’ collective guilt. We don’t know if Rachel is the villain or if she’s just another victim of whatever system she helped create. And that’s where the real tension lies—not in the plot, but in the implications. Marshall’s strength has always been in the atmosphere, in the way she makes the reader feel like they’re standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down at something they can’t quite see. The synopsis doesn’t give us the cliff, but it gives us the vertigo.
And that’s why I’m already invested. Because the best thrillers don’t just tell you what happened; they make you feel like you’re part of it. And if Marshall can pull off the same kind of psychological unraveling here that she did in What Lies in the Woods—where the reader is left questioning everything, including their own sanity—then this could be something special. But if it’s just another retread of the “troubled girls in a remote location” trope, then it’s just another book that’ll get lost in the shuffle of people who think they know what a cult looks like until they’re actually inside one.
I need to go write a letter to an editor on a mechanical typewriter now, just to remember what it’s like to feel like I’m actually making something instead of just scrolling through the wreckage of my own thoughts.
#bookstagram #psychologicalhorror #cultlit #wellnessindustry #typewriterlife
