Book Review: Blood on Her Tongue by Lisa D. O’Malley
As a self-proclaimed aficionado of the macabre and the eerie, I was eager to dive into Blood on Her Tongue, the much-anticipated release by Lisa D. O’Malley. With its promise of unsettling horror and complex sibling dynamics, I had high hopes for this one, only to wind up immersed in what can best be described as a "WTF did I just read?" experience. Buckle up, fellow readers, because this one is a boggy ride through some thrilling—yet perplexing—territory.
Set against a backdrop that feel ripe for gothic exploration, the story plunges us into the lives of Lucy and Sarah, twins whose bond transcends their undeniable looks—and, yes, their shared taste in men. Right from the start, O’Malley offers us a tantalizing taste of horror with vivid imagery that made my skin crawl in delight. Sarah, particularly, captivated me; her chapters were not only beautifully penned, but they also managed to weave in a haunting narrative about her obsession with the bog woman and her deteriorating sanity. I found myself eagerly flipping pages, completely enthralled.
In stark contrast, Lucy’s perspective did not resonate with me at all. While I wanted to be open-minded, her inner monologues felt less like insight and more like a drag on the story. When Lucy’s voice overshadowed Sarah’s, I found myself wanting to skim rather than savor. The decision to intersperse their narratives was a gamble that didn’t pay off for me—where one twin was electric and wrote with haunting poetry, the other felt flat and uninspired.
As the plot progressed, however, it took a turn that left me scratching my head. What began with gripping gothic charm devolved into something reminiscent of a rushed YA novel. The pacing felt uneven, and at times, certain contemporary phrases—like "the scene of the crime"—grated against the historical context of 1887. These jarring inconsistencies made it challenging to remain fully immersed in the narrative.
Now, let’s talk about the complex sibling relationship, which should have been a rich vein for exploration. Unfortunately, I found it unconvincing; the love or even the tension between Lucy and Sarah felt muted. By the time the plot hurtled toward its conclusion, I was left pondering not only its themes of malevolence and revenge but also its overall impact. Was it truly a commentary on female empowerment? Did it achieve that? For me, the message of female rage against despicable men got lost amidst the confusion.
(Spoooooilers aheaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!) The takeaway messages seemed to center on two key points that felt, well, underwhelming. They left me questioning whether I missed the deeper significance everyone else was buzzing about.
In terms of storytelling techniques, I’d suggest O’Malley could benefit from more time-appropriate language, trimmed inner monologues, and richer character backstories. The presence of the mad aunt was tantalizing but ultimately inconsequential, leaving opportunities for depth unexplored.
Despite my mixed feelings, I genuinely look forward to what O’Malley will create next. Her potential is palpable, and there’s an undeniable spark in her writing that I can’t help but keep an eye on.
In conclusion, Blood on Her Tongue may appeal to readers who appreciate peculiar sibling dynamics wrapped in horror, but those looking for a denser emotional landscape might find themselves unsettled—in a way that veers toward frustrating. It’s a ride worth considering, if only to grapple with its peculiarities and potential. As for me, while I didn’t find it as impactful as I hoped, I walked away curious about the conversations it will ignite among fellow readers.