There’s something about this book that feels like a whispered warning and a lullaby all at once. A Spell for Drowning caught me completely off guard—in the best way. It’s eerie, poetic, and steeped in that peculiar kind of magic that creeps up on you: slow, coastal, cold to the bone.
Kensa’s story unfolds in a remote village weighed down by fear, suspicion, and old pacts. Her journey begins with a lie—one that feels small at first, almost necessary—and unravels into something far more dangerous. The further she goes, the more the story digs into themes of sacrifice, consequence, and what it means to claim power that was never freely given.
There’s folklore in these pages that feels lived-in. The sea monster, the rites, the wise women—it’s all wrapped in a fog of Cornish myth and memory. I never knew what direction the story would take, and I loved that. There’s a quiet unpredictability that kept me on edge, like the tide pulling back before a storm.
But what really made this stand out was the tone: part horror, part dark fairytale, part bittersweet coming-of-age. It’s filled with oddities and strange, beautiful creatures—and yes, some surprisingly funny moments too, like the kind of dry humor you’d find in an old folk tale told late at night.
If you love atmospheric stories with folklore roots, stories that unsettle while enchanting, A Spell for Drowning is a must-read. It's the kind of book that stays with you—not because it shouts, but because it haunts.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC. I didn’t expect this book to find me the way it did, but I’m so glad it did.