Riveting, atmospheric and haunting, Lute feels like a dark, mesmerizing spell. I promise once you begin this taut, unrelenting stunner, you won’t be able to put it down.” The coast looks calm today, thank God, so at least our boat won’t be battered by waves all the way across the Bristol Channel like the last time we traveled to the mainland, almost a year ago. They say these waters are safer than ever now, patrolled and well out of the action, which does make sense. It’s not just for our little archipelago’s sake that the warships are placed where they are. An undefended Bristol Channel would allow the enemy deep into the belly of Britain. Thorne’s subversion of folk horror tropes and focus on small, intimate beats make for a gripping reading experience."

All that said: my quibbles with Lute are minor, and pale in the face of its strengths. Lute brings to life the experience of ostracism and the feeling of being an outsider. It is ‘horror’ in that it plays on one of our greatest anxieties: the sense of feeling unwelcome, and not knowing where (or if) one might ever belong. It seems simple enough. But as Lark begins to read he realizes: the book might be demonic. Its writer may be unhinged. His sister’s captors are almost certainly not what they seem. And his town and those within it are… changing. I drive the thought away now and think of the northern tip of the island, the cell tower and barrow. That area isn’t all that dangerous, just eerie.

Both intelligent and heartfelt, as Kate finds unexpected love as well as unimagined courage. . . . Not only does Thorne give readers a moving coming-of-age story, but casts a critical eye on the state of American politics.” – Booklist, starred review

As I squint west past John’s head, my eye catches on a trio of brightly colored figures headed down toward the beach. They look so reassuringly ordinary. Nah, I should think not. Looks like a bloody-nosed beetle to me, as Lute as they come.” He grins, and his face explodes with creases. “I’m not using profanity in front of your daughter, Lady Treadway, that’s honestly what they’re called. I’ll snap a picture and find out for sure. That’s what they’re paying me for, after all.” Den of Geek says: The author of The Girl with All the Gifts threw his lot in with a blurb on this one, which promises rich atmosphere and visceral horror. The city mouse and country mouse family dynamic also draws the eye — who will escape death? I received this book for free from the Publisher in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review. Lute by Jennifer Thorne What’s this now?” PC Brian leans low, frowning over his steaming mug of tea like it’s a crucial piece of evidence.

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We’re not staying; we’re leaving on that mechanic’s boat within the hour. But I know what he meant. Hang on.” Hugh whirls around, pointing past the man to his small speedboat, tied up next to the launch. “You’ve got your boat.” Just in time, two hands appear as if from nowhere and snatch her into the parking lot while she wiggles wildly. “You can’t fly, fairy princess. You haven’t got your wings yet!” Nina both embodies and upends the well-worn trope of oblivious Americans experiencing a clash of cultures in historic, aristocratic Europe. This has been the subject of classic works by Mark Twain (The Innocents Abroad, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court), Henry James (Daisy Miller, The Ambassadors), Nathaniel Hawthorne (The Marble Faun), and many others. Jennifer Thorne’s specific use of this motif in Lute echoes that of Oscar Wilde in The Canterville Ghost, but with Wilde’s trademark humor replaced by a pervasive sense of foreboding.

Dreamy, moody, mysterious, and haunting... [ Lute] will capture your imagination as bodies drop to the floor." At least I know that seeing the children off to Sunnan isn’t a Lute tradition, since this is the first time they’ve done it. The custom as it stood for millennia was for every single islander to remain on Lute for the Day, irrespective of age or condition. Not this year. There was an official island-wide vote, and this was the decision. Given the war, our diminished numbers, etcetera, etcetera, the children would be excused from taking part, along with a few adult caretakers, including Rev. Warren. He usually stays on island, apparently, which surprised me, given how pagan it all feels. I blink, disoriented. How is that possible? It’s felt like half the day I’ve been looking for Charlie, but of course, for Matthew to have caught up on foot would have taken longer. Still, everything feels bent, too fast and too slow at once.But once it’s there, it’s really, really there. Particularly as, just as in the Final Destination movies, the cause of the horror isn’t a specific villain or monster. Not that there doesn’t turn out to be a villain in Lute– just that the villain isn’t the cause of The Day. More like its result. The voice I hear when I berate myself these days sounds more and more like my mother’s, that hissing whisper through a smiling mouth, quiet enough that other parents could never hear. Whatever kind of parent I am, I’m a hell of a lot better than she was. She doesn’t deserve any space in my head. Oh my God.” I practically keel over with relief as Joanna opens the door for me. “This child is going to kill me.”

When her best friend Hannah comes out the day before junior year, Daisy is all set to let her ally flag fly. Before you can spell LGBTQIA, she’s leading the charge to end their school’s antiquated ban on same-sex dates at dances—starting with homecoming. And if people assume Daisy herself is gay? Meh, so what. It’s all for Hannah, right? It’s all for the cause. What Daisy doesn’t expect is for “the cause” to blow up—thanks to Adam, the cute college journalist whose interview with Daisy for his college newspaper goes viral, catching fire in the national media. With the story spinning out of control, protesters gathering, Hannah left in the dust of Daisy’s good intentions, and Daisy’s attraction to Adam practically written in lights, Daisy finds herself caught between her bold plans, her bad decisions, and her big fat mouth. In the end, Luteis Nina’s story in a way that it never was Hugh’s, even though it should have been. The sacrifices and the responsibilities of being the Lady of Lute make Nina even as they break her husband and their marriage. And the story worked for me, even as horror, because in spite of just how serious and in the end terrible the situation gets to be, there still manages to be a bit of sweet and a sort of happy ending mixed in with the bitter. John won’t rat them out for camping without a permit. He’s not the type. Sure enough, he just smiles. “Lady Treadway here’s looking for her son. Seen anybody of the seven-year-old persuasion wandering—?” Part of Nina’s discontent with her life on Lute is her scepticism about the island’s most famed tradition: ‘the Day’. The Day is an ancient, suspiciously mythic, celebration that takes place every seven years – an island-wide affair that’s part-anniversary/part rite. The Day is, supposedly, Lute’s karmic balance: its day of sacrifice. The day where the continuous pleasantry is balanced – or earned. Lute opens three days before The Day, and Nina is sensitive that the islanders are being even stranger than usual – including her husband and children.Lute is told as a first-person narrative by Nina, a young Floridian who has left her academic life behind to wed Lord Hugh Treadway, whom she met on a cruise with her grandmother. As the newly minted Lady Treadway, Nina grapples with settling into her new life on Lute while also bringing a natural skepticism toward the legends of the island. As an American, Nina’s assimilation on Lute is made especially difficult due to the global political situation, where the United States has allied with Russia on the wrong side of a new world war. Now, after seven years on the island and with two young children, Nina is about to experience her first day of ritualistic sacrifice. No, no. It’s fine, you’re busy enough as it is.” I smile another goodbye, but my heart’s still pounding like there’s something wrong.