Say Her Name

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Even though it became clear immediately that the the bio-dad was shady AF, I was curious to find out how all the pieces fit together, and felt it was worth reading for that reason. It’s a good thing reading this didn’t take me more than 2 days, because I think I would explode if I had to walk around afraid of each and every reflection for any longer.

Say Her Name is the best YA horror I’ve read in a long time. I love urban legends and ghost stories (even though I don’t believe in ghosts) so this was perfect for me. And yes, it is as creepy as promised! I really like the (sort-of open) ending! I feel like when horror books (or movies) are wrapped up perfectly at the end, it makes the entire thing less creepy. Which would be good for my sleep, but y’know.

Confession time, friends: I love dead spouse stories. While I typically vomit at the trauma-porn stylings of Cathy Glass or Dave Pelzer, something about widows and widowers always draw me in. I don’t know what it is, maybe I’m trying to prepare for the worst, but I’ll always give them a read, from Joan Didion’s Year of Magical Thinking to Rob Sheffield’s Love is a Mixtape. The form would seem to dictate the author take one of two approaches: testify their own love for the deceased, or convince the reader to love them as much as the writer did. The latter approach rarely works, which is unfortunately the one Goldman takes.

Whether love or obsession or some combination of the two, Francisco certainly had nothing more than his wife, Aura’s, happiness as his goal in life. Did Aura find him overbearing? Not according to the novel. Though she was a strong, independent woman, she reveled in his attentions and he was excited by her reactions to them. And, like mourning, love is experienced differently by each person. “Love is a religion. You can only believe it when you’ve experienced it.” I heard about this title on Wisconsin Public Radio and was riveted by the author’s candid as well as incredibly heart-breaking account of his wife’s death in a bodysurfing accident. If you read this story, you might want to skip "the dare" part. You might want to refrain from saying her name out loud. Or else, Bloody Mary will come get you! Vaya. Esto es un poco irregular, no sé si el procedimiento… ¡Pero oiga! Esto tiene casi quinientas páginas. En fin, se nota que es usted escritor. A ver…Remember that scene from The Conjuring- the one with the music box chiming "Happy birthday to you" slowly until the dreaded figure appears in the mirror on the inner side of the lid? That's what I have been hearing ever since I opened this book. It's been singing somewhere in my neighborhood. Relentlessly. Non-stop. Day and Night. Depriving me of sleep. Driving me insane. Nope. Not kidding. My dad rubbished my claims. Apparently he heard no such music filtering into our house and that's even creepier.