She wants to scream. It’s building in her chest. Trapped there, scratching at her lungs as though her ribs are the bars holding it back. She hears breathing. Not her own. Deep and unhurried. It whispers across her face like a warm cloth. It turns her skin to ice. She lashes out. Hits, twists, kicks. She sees it in her mind, feels it in her muscles. But it doesn’t happen. She doesn’t move. Neither does he. She sees him now. A shape in the darkness. Above her, black and motionless.
The reader is frequently left unsure of whether Carly is the classic unreliable narrator, a feeling complicated by the possibility that she may also be behaving this way unconsciously as a result of her own past trauma. Because it’s also not clear what these nocturnal visits are designed to achieve, or what this mysterious figure is doing, there’s much in this novel that raises questions – but not so much as to make it feel manipulative or staged. The setting of Darkest Place is perfectly sinister as well, with the carefully crafted environment of a refurbished old warehouse complex creating a place that is architecturally open, light and bright, yet quiet, isolating and off-putting: Staircases zigzagged upwards, suspended walkways connected the landings, and a forest of old timber columns still supported the first floor. Standing at the bottom, Carly felt like she was at the base of a labyrinth. There are people moving through this space but many are private, or a little odd, frequently wrapped up in their own lives. There are moments of lightness when friendships start to form, counter-balanced by that unknown threat, right up to the point that somebody dies and Carly realises that she is pretty much on her own when it comes to solving what she thinks is definitely real and very dangerous. Even allowing that the reader is never really sure if Carly is on the level, there’s something extremely endearing about her as a character. Perhaps it’s because she’s as aware as the reader that there could be something very wrong about her version of reality: She didn’t want a man breaking into her apartment and she didn’t want to be crazy. But a dream? It’s particularly interesting to note the way that the author has created a closed-in environment in a larger city (which really could be any city, anywhere). As Carly moves between the warehouse centre and the university at which she studies, there is very little outside action. Everything in her life quickly centres around these two places and the connections between them, and her interactions with anybody else are tightly coupled to these sites. This further adds to the tension, creating an insulated little world where everybody is an insider and every insider becomes suspect. Whether it’s the next-door neighbour, the man she mostly comes across in the foyer or the lift, or the caretaker, every man in the story seems to loom into view in a way that wrong-foots Carly every time. That wrong-footing is at the core of just about everything in Darkest Place. From the way that Carly interacts with the people and places of her present, the way she processes her past, and the ultimate solution to the entire puzzle, everything is about making darn sure you watch your feet as much as your back. Jaye Ford Darkest Place Bantam PB 2016 $32.99 Karen Chisholm blogs from http://www.austcrimefiction.org, where she posts book reviews well as author biographies. You can buy Darkest Place from Abbey’s at a 10% discount by quoting the promotion code NEWTOWNREVIEW here or you can buy it from Booktopia here. To see if it is available from Newtown Library, click here.Tags: Australian crime fiction, Australian women writers, crime fiction, Jaye | Ford
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