I am a wuss. I do not enjoy being frightened. As a consequence, I rarely read books that are explicitly marketed as horror, and don’t particularly love books that have horror elements.

Of course, there are exceptions to this rule; sometimes I have read a book without realising it had horror elements and I’ve really enjoyed it! But I am wary.

All of this is to say, I haven’t read much of Kirstyn’s work, despite her being a friend.

However. I should start a “books I read in one sitting” tag in Goodreads. This book would go on that shelf. Because, yes, I did. I started it in the afternoon, read through dinner, and finished it before bed. Note: I did not read this while alone in the house. Because I am not that silly.

There are three sets of horror / disturbing elements playing in this novel. One: it’s set in 2020, and it starts in Melbourne. The main character then goes back to her family farm, so she’s not in the city for the entire period of the world’s longest sets of lockdown, but nevertheless: the panic buying and the lack of certainty and… yes. Well. If you were there, you know. Kirstyn captures it beautifully. It all felt very real – the not knowing in March, the waiting for the Premier Dan pressers… no, I didn’t quite have flashbacks, but I could visualise it all very easily.

Two: Jude, the main character, goes back to the farm because she fears her mother’s mind is wandering. Hands up those of us in that situation or about to be? Yeh. I don’t like it. Again, Kirstyn writes it perfectly: the snapping in and out of focus, the tightrope-walking of whether to challenge a sentence here or there, the fear of whether she’s a danger or herself or others. Being bewildered at suddenly being the responsible one.

Three: there’s a ghost. Maybe? The gradual revelation of what’s going on with that is truly masterful. And I won’t say any more about that because it’s the unravelling that makes it worthwhile. Trust me, though, it is worthwhile.

Oh, there’s also a recently ex-husband who’s a complete arse, so that’s like point 3.5.

What the Bones Know has a tiny cast of characters, all of them excruciatingly well-observed – and being so tightly bound to just a few people (particularly when it’s daughter, mother, grandmother) really adds to a sense of claustrophobia – despite it being set on a farm. It has a spectacularly Australian tone (tits on a bull!) – and if you’ve driven around Myrtleford, in Victoria, you will instantly recognise the area. And, as witnessed by my need to read the damned thing so quickly, it’s very compelling.

Just read it.