After finishing this one, I thought, "well that was a sweet little horror novel." I'm not sure I can verbalize why sweet is the best word, but it really is.
Maybe it's Mary Robinette Kowal's subtle hints of humor alongside the terror in her voice as she narrates Iðunn (pronounced Ethun) in Knútsdóttir's novella. I rooted for Iðunn and was horrified alongside her as events unfolded. I wanted Iðunn to wake up feeling refreshed, not like she just walked 5 miles or wrestled a bear. What other explanation could there be for the soreness, bruises on her body, and blood under her nails night after night?
Maybe it's the book's format of 100+ chapters - but many just a single sentence. It was nice not needing pages and pages of explanation and exposition. It's really quite simple, Iðunn isn't sleeping well. In her journey to figure out why, she tries psychotherapy, sleeping pills, insomnia, dating distraction, GPS, and a step-counting app. Despite the overall brevity, Knútsdóttir still managed to create someone you care for and seem to know pretty well.
It definitely wasn't the sinister undertone of Iðunn's morning revelations.
Or the cats.
And it wasn't the reveal. Definitely not the reveal, which I'm a little flummoxed by, to be honest.
But somehow, at the end of the day, I was able to listen to this novella in a few hours and got a fun head scratcher out of it. Unconventionally, horrifically, sweet.
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