The same hair and eye color, the same nose, the same silhouette: identical twins share all sorts of physical attributes. But what about what’s lurking beneath the surface? In When She Was Me, two sisters must come to terms with their darkness and guilt to unravel the tangled web of their identities and find out what happened the night the neighbor girl went missing. Many thanks to Sourcebooks Landmark and Poisoned Pen Press for the advanced copy to review.
On the surface, Cassie and Lenora look alike, yet are polar opposites. One shines and thrives, while the other clings to her anonymity like a second skin. Fairly isolated by their mini home’s remote, peaceful location, the sisters cope with painful memories of the past in their own ways; Cassie examines the work and victims of killers in order to retell their stories online, and Lenora locks her anxiety away behind as many closed doors as she can find. They remain fiercely loyal to one another despite their differences.
When the new landlord rents out one of the neighboring cabins to a family of three, the sisters find themselves taking an interest in people who exist outside their little bubble. One night, the fifteen-year-old daughter Tilly disappears, and Lenora is the only possible witness. The problem is she can’t remember a damn thing. She was sleepwalking, so there’s no telling what she might have seen…or done. Delusions, love, old resentment, obligations, codependency, the illusion of escapism, and even happiness all culminate in an all-consuming obsession.
One of the things I admired about Marlee Bush‘s approach to revealing a complex, even sinister dichotomy within both of the main characters was her ability to put so much personality in each chapter as she switched from one sister’s perspective to the other’s. It really drove home that there is always another side to every story, and that the truth is never as simple as we might suppose it to be. Rather than simply rehashing events in slightly different tones, Bush holds Cassie and Lenora accountable for their part in the larger narrative, each a separate entity while also being one part of a whole. As a result, even the repeated information is fresh and new, which, to me, made When She Was Me one giant walking contradiction: at once abrasive and poetic, poignant and abrupt, tender and removed.
That being said, if any readers pick this up and wait for some grand revelation to tie everything up all nice and neat by the time they reach the last page, or even a speedy conclusion, they’ll be sorely disappointed. This is a slow burn, although certainly not of the romantic variety. It’s a tale of complex and sometimes toxic familial dynamics, the complexities of shared DNA versus individual identities, and what darkness is actually made of—all wrapped up in one juicy mystery.
For bibliophiles obsessed with psychological thrillers like Gone Girl and complex character analyses woven within a brilliant plot like those found in Where Madness Lies, When She Was Me would make a quirky, creepy and affectionate addition to your TBR lists.
K. Watkins 