Right from the off, when you start reading Willow
Weeps, you are advised to find yourself somewhere cosy, dark and atmospheric,
without interruptions, and immerse yourself in earnest into the author’s world. If you do, you’ll be rewarded with a psychological
treat – a work of quality and intense poignancy. If you don’t, to be honest, you may find
yourself on something of the back foot and playing catch-up. This is a book best read entirely on the author’s
wavelength.
In truth, there is far more in the way of
emotional engagement and melancholy melodrama than there is horror, in this vivid,
moody tale. The supernatural aspect is
more suggestive than explicit, which all adds to its cleverness; it could as
much be about the paranormal as it could about mental illness – and there are
large swathes of both. The story of a
woman haunted by her role in the tragic death of her little sister, moving into
a building which was once a scandal-hit young offenders’ institution, offers arguably
as much social commentary as exploration of the damaged psyche of its
characters, and the fallout from the relevant backstories is as thought-provoking
as it is detailed. This is a book which compels
you to think about its events.
It is a fine piece of work from a thoughtful
writer, which deserves (and demands) your full attention. I’ll be honest, it did lose me a little at
times, and I think part of this may be caused by the present-tense narrative
Louise has opted for, which didn’t strike me as the best choice for this book,
and might have even been a little distracting on occasion. It does feel, from time to time, necessary for
the reader to work a little. Otherwise,
though, she is compelling, engaging and talented, and obviously has fine credentials. I have another two to read from this author
on my T.B.R. list, and I must say that I look forward to them keenly.