The past certainly has a funny habit of repeating itself, and in Marlee Bush’s latest novel, Whispers of Dead Girls, even a decade might not be enough to break a certain sinister cycle. Many thanks to Sourcebooks Landmark and Poisoned Pen Press for the advanced copy to review.
When Ren Taylor accepts a job at the same high school she once attended, it is with the hope that her old neighbors will let sleeping dogs—or in this case, her sister, who was murdered as a teenager—lie. Instead, she finds a community still mourning that loss. The constant whispers rehashing the old scandal that wrecked her childhood years are inescapable, but that doesn’t prevent her from taking notice of what’s currently unfolding in town. Enter Bryson Lewis: good-looking and popular among his colleagues and students, the physics teacher seems to be the quintessential hometown hero, a bona fide catch. But this is no fairy tale, and Bryson is no prince. Ren just has to prove it, even if that means dredging up secrets she had every intention of taking to the grave.
As chilling as it is poignant, Whispers of Dead Girls contains multitudes. Ren’s amateur sleuthing in response to Bryson’s potentially inappropriate behavior with a female student who reminds our heroine a bit too much of her deceased sister introduces both the thrill of the chase and the burden of grief and experience. At the center of the narrative is the pervasive question of when it’s time to let things go—from the past and our own painful memories of it to our present suspicions and aggravations—but, as anyone could guess, there is no one-size-fits-all answer. At the same time, small-town mentality often tries to squash this concept of individual timelines and processes, as illustrated by the persistence with which the population clings to Ren’s family’s tragedy, all but claiming it as its own without the citizens ever realizing that they’re not just boxing themselves in, but reinforcing Ren’s self-built prison in the process.
Much like in Bush’s previous novel When She Was Me, the main characters guiding this narrative are multifaceted; there are no white knights or textbook villains. Their fractured pasts paint them in all sorts of shades of gray, but the female characters are particularly dynamic in a haunting sort of way. Walking a fine line between vulnerable and formidable right up to the conclusion of the story, they serve as cogs in a twisted machine, responding to the tension inherent in this psychological exploration of family and obligation, of the different kinds of damage a person—especially a young woman—can sustain without cracking under the pressure. And all the while, the mysteries of the plot shift and churn, keeping their audience guessing as they ramp up from quiet what-ifs to screaming accusations.
Readers who relished Bush’s previous novel or other suspenseful thrillers such as Lois Duncan’s Don’t Look Behind You will find themselves in a viselike grip courtesy of Whispers of Dead Girls.
K. Watkins 