Told from two seemingly unreliable, yet oddly…reliable? narrators, Martínez’ book packs a creepy punch. I love a good “alive” house story and this one is no exception. It’s a story of two women holding generational trauma and their insatiable house. 

I would go into it blind, as I did for I think it makes a greater impression that way. 

I particularly enjoyed the stream of consciousness type prose that had a lyricism about them. But be warned, there are no quotation marks.