"That was the second time in my life death lied to me. I wanted it to lie to me just once more."
Neviah has seen the Other Side since she was a child, a dark world trapped somewhere between past and present where shadowy creatures ominously keep watch. Though she has turned her connection with the supernatural into a thriving counseling practice, she is racked with guilt over a professional decision that landed a former client, Martha, into protective custody almost ten years ago. When a little boy arrives alone at her clinic with a letter identifying himself as Martha's son, Neviah has a chance to redeem herself. Having suffered enough loss for one lifetime, Neviah must locate the boy's mother before time runs out and she loses the chance to right her wrongs once and for all—and before the shadowy creatures that have plagued her since childhood do more damage to her loved ones than they already have.
Birds in the Black Water is atmospheric, message-driven horror in the vein of Get Out, Midsommar, and Insidious. Van Dusen isn't afraid to cross genre lines as she explores the intersection of mental health, maternal instinct, and grief.
"That was the second time in my life death lied to me. I wanted it to lie to me just once more."
Neviah has seen the Other Side since she was a child, a dark world trapped somewhere between past and present where shadowy creatures ominously keep watch. Though she has turned her connection with the supernatural into a thriving counseling practice, she is racked with guilt over a professional decision that landed a former client, Martha, into protective custody almost ten years ago. When a little boy arrives alone at her clinic with a letter identifying himself as Martha's son, Neviah has a chance to redeem herself. Having suffered enough loss for one lifetime, Neviah must locate the boy's mother before time runs out and she loses the chance to right her wrongs once and for all—and before the shadowy creatures that have plagued her since childhood do more damage to her loved ones than they already have.
Birds in the Black Water is atmospheric, message-driven horror in the vein of Get Out, Midsommar, and Insidious. Van Dusen isn't afraid to cross genre lines as she explores the intersection of mental health, maternal instinct, and grief.
She stared at me from the other side of the mirror, its surface cloudy with age. She lifted her hand as I lifted mine; touched a finger to her lips in tandem with me. And when I touched the surface of the glass, her hand reached out to clasp mine, holding it so bone-crushingly tight I thought it would shatter.
Her face transfigured into a wraith, a phantasm, a dark spirit so black she absorbed and crushed what little light trickled in through the bedroom window. Her fingers were suddenly long, black tendrils that wrapped around my wrist like a hot, metal bracelet, burning the skin and yet cold to touch as I tried to squirm away.
When I jolted upright in bed, the skin around my wrist felt raw like it had been chafed by rope where the creature touched me. A welt formed on the skin, still clammy and pale from the night terror. My pillow was wet, long hair matted and soaked with sweat.
“The dreams are back,” I spoke to the man keeping careful watch of me from the corner. The vibrant yellow and red plaid of his button up was muted and grey in the dark as he rocked alone in the chair. My vision swam with fatigue, pulse quickening when a hand touched my back, jarring me fully awake.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” a man’s voice, slurring with sleep, uttered from beside me in bed. In the time it took to register my husband’s voice, the figure in the corner fled the room, replaced by shadows. I stared wide-eyed and trembling into the darkness.
The darkness stared back.
My rating: 3.5 stars
Neviah has dark shadows in her past, not unlike the shadow beings, or "Koels," only she can see that lurk behind every tree and doorway. Though the images torment her, they also give her power. She can use her connection with them to visit “The Other Side.” Neviah and her husband own a counseling sanctuary where Neviah uses her unique gift to help people come to terms with their problems. When Gabriel, the young son of a girl she once tried to help, shows up on Neviah’s doorstep one snowy night, he starts a chain reaction that causes her to finally face her past.
The unique setting and strange supernatural features of this novel made it interesting from the start. The depiction of the Koels created an eerie atmosphere—they were described just enough to make them seem real, but not so much as to make them campy. The author’s experience as a counselor definitely informed her approach to the subject of grief and therapy, and the conflicts and interactions between the adult characters felt real and fleshed out.
While much of the novel was gripping, making me want to start the next chapter each time I finished one, some aspects of the writing pulled me out of the story, distracting me with confusion or frustration. For instance, some important elements were foreshadowed too long before allowing the reader to know the truth and feel connected to the events.
A few things stood out as disjointed from the narrative, such as the story written by Neviah’s brother. She supposedly illustrated the text, but based on when she acquired the piece, that didn’t make sense. Also, Gabriel is not quite convincing in parts. At six years old, he is unable to read Neviah's brother's story, but later tells her how he researched and read books about how to care for a pet fish, which seemed unrealistic.
Despite these lapses in continuity, the book was an easy, engaging read, creepy enough for those who like to dip their toes into horror, but not too scary for readers who just want a good drama.
Content Warning: Book contains mention of suicide, self-harm, eating disorders, and trauma.