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The Offering
A stunning novel about faith, innocence and sin, the tale of an unusual rite of passage with terrible consequences by the prize-winning young author of The Land of Decoration.
It was the year when Madeline's family moved to an island her father believed God had guided him to.
It was a place where she revelled in the natural beauty of their surroundings.
It was a time of euphoria, but also of successive disasters.
It was the night Madeline turned fourteen, when she did something she thought would save her beloved mother. Something so traumatic that she cannot now recall it, but her suave new psychiatrist thinks he knows how to unlock her memory. He is treading on very dangerous ground.
It was the year when Madeline's family moved to an island her father believed God had guided him to.
It was a place where she revelled in the natural beauty of their surroundings.
It was a time of euphoria, but also of successive disasters.
It was the night Madeline turned fourteen, when she did something she thought would save her beloved mother. Something so traumatic that she cannot now recall it, but her suave new psychiatrist thinks he knows how to unlock her memory. He is treading on very dangerous ground.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published January 15, 2015
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723 people want to read
About the author
Grace McCleen
10 books59 followersGrace McCleen was born in Wales and grew up in a fundamentalist religion where she did not have much contact with non-believers. Her family moved to Ireland when she was ten, where she was schooled at home. When Grace and her family moved back to Britain she went back to school and her English teacher suggested she apply to Oxford.
She studied English Literature at Oxford University and The University of York before becoming a full-time writer and musician. She lives in London. The Land of Decoration is her first novel.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/gracem...
She studied English Literature at Oxford University and The University of York before becoming a full-time writer and musician. She lives in London. The Land of Decoration is her first novel.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/gracem...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 61 reviews
October 27, 2014
This is a pre-publication review of a book that will not go on sale until January 2015.
If you are looking for a book to illustrate the wickedness of dogmatic religion and the damage it does to young minds, you need look no further than this - at least, that's the message I took from the harrowing, heart-rending wretchedness of Grace McCleen's latest, The Offering. I'm not sure if it was the pointlessness of what happens to Madeline and her family, the stupidity and senselessness of it all that made me so miserable. I do know I am so sick and so tired of reading novels that depress and sadden me to the extent that reading them becomes a nightmare, a dreaded chore, as far from a pleasure as it is possible to get. Almost every book I've read lately seems to be of this ilk. The Offering is not the worst example, or even the darkest, it just happens to be the straw that broke my emotional back, unfortunate target of all my ire at all this misery being heaped on me by the authors of Books Like This.
The Offering is not a bad book. It is, in fact a very good book. It's beautifully written. The best of it is a poem to the glories of nature seen through the eyes of a child-adolescent whose mind has been irrevocably injured by the zeal of her parents' religious indoctrination, and her - at first slow, then not so slow - descent into viciousness, breakdown and madness. But why is it always the animals? Every book, every film, every TV show - you know, if there's a dog, a cat, a hamster, a budgie in the plot, the non-human is going to get what's coming sooner or later. It seems to be the writer's badge of Authenticity, of Keeping it Real. It's become inevitable, a lazy cliché and I'm absolutely sick of it. But there is a theme running through art (all art), that seems to suggest that only the terrible, the cruel, the depressing, the shattering, is judged as Worthy. Comedies don't win Oscars; happy books don't win literary prizes.
It's probably unfair of me to single this particular novel out for a 2 star review. If we're talking about the beauty of the writing, the skill of the pacing and the plotting, the characterisation, all the things that usually gift a novel with rave reviews, this would easily be worth 5 stars, but the star rating system isn't actually about the cleverness, the beauty or the brilliance of the writing; it's about our enjoyment of the work in question. On Goodreads, 3 stars says 'I liked it', 2 stars, 'it was OK', only 1 star says 'I didn't like it', and I really didn't like The Offering; I finished it only because I was sent it to review. If I hadn't had to read it, I would have put it away a long time ago. But one star feels unfair for a book that is clearly A Good Book, that others who read it will doubtless love. It's probably great art too, and I will probably (oh the irony!!) be judged a Philistine for my antipathy. But this is my review and I have to be honest, and the truth is, this book upset me, depressed me, enraged me - and none of it in a good way; it was an unhappy reading experience that I'm glad is over. I simply didn't like it at all.
If you are looking for a book to illustrate the wickedness of dogmatic religion and the damage it does to young minds, you need look no further than this - at least, that's the message I took from the harrowing, heart-rending wretchedness of Grace McCleen's latest, The Offering. I'm not sure if it was the pointlessness of what happens to Madeline and her family, the stupidity and senselessness of it all that made me so miserable. I do know I am so sick and so tired of reading novels that depress and sadden me to the extent that reading them becomes a nightmare, a dreaded chore, as far from a pleasure as it is possible to get. Almost every book I've read lately seems to be of this ilk. The Offering is not the worst example, or even the darkest, it just happens to be the straw that broke my emotional back, unfortunate target of all my ire at all this misery being heaped on me by the authors of Books Like This.
The Offering is not a bad book. It is, in fact a very good book. It's beautifully written. The best of it is a poem to the glories of nature seen through the eyes of a child-adolescent whose mind has been irrevocably injured by the zeal of her parents' religious indoctrination, and her - at first slow, then not so slow - descent into viciousness, breakdown and madness. But why is it always the animals? Every book, every film, every TV show - you know, if there's a dog, a cat, a hamster, a budgie in the plot, the non-human is going to get what's coming sooner or later. It seems to be the writer's badge of Authenticity, of Keeping it Real. It's become inevitable, a lazy cliché and I'm absolutely sick of it. But there is a theme running through art (all art), that seems to suggest that only the terrible, the cruel, the depressing, the shattering, is judged as Worthy. Comedies don't win Oscars; happy books don't win literary prizes.
It's probably unfair of me to single this particular novel out for a 2 star review. If we're talking about the beauty of the writing, the skill of the pacing and the plotting, the characterisation, all the things that usually gift a novel with rave reviews, this would easily be worth 5 stars, but the star rating system isn't actually about the cleverness, the beauty or the brilliance of the writing; it's about our enjoyment of the work in question. On Goodreads, 3 stars says 'I liked it', 2 stars, 'it was OK', only 1 star says 'I didn't like it', and I really didn't like The Offering; I finished it only because I was sent it to review. If I hadn't had to read it, I would have put it away a long time ago. But one star feels unfair for a book that is clearly A Good Book, that others who read it will doubtless love. It's probably great art too, and I will probably (oh the irony!!) be judged a Philistine for my antipathy. But this is my review and I have to be honest, and the truth is, this book upset me, depressed me, enraged me - and none of it in a good way; it was an unhappy reading experience that I'm glad is over. I simply didn't like it at all.
September 13, 2016
I'm sure I remember reading somewhere that this was the first novel McCleen wrote, though it was published after her others; I can't find confirmation of that now, but turned up several references (e.g. here) to the fact that she wrote all three of her books in the same year, 2010. The reason I remembered this in the first place was that The Offering seems to bear traces of amateurishness I didn't detect in McCleen's elegant second novel, The Professor of Poetry. The story is narrated by Madeline, a long-term patient at Lethem Park Mental Infirmary. She's in her mid-thirties, although – deliberately? – she sounds decades older. Admitted as a teenager, Madeline has never recovered any memories of what happened the night she ran away from her parents' cottage (or so she claims). As she is treated by a disruptive new doctor, Dr Lucas, the story she has repressed for two decades is slowly revealed.
As in The Professor of Poetry, McCleen writes beautifully, but at the end of the book I felt I was left with more questions than answers about Madeline. So much of the plot seems unlikely, particularly for its time period (2010 in the present day, circa 1989/90 for the sections featuring 13-year-old Madeline). It was helpful to imagine the story taking place in a slightly altered society, a dystopia-lite in which teenagers are irrevocably locked away in institutions for a single episode of amnesia, and individual doctors are free to impose punishing methods of treatment on the severely mentally ill without even a suggestion of regulation. It would have made so much more sense if set a century earlier; as it is, it's hard not to question many aspects of Madeline's story – whether it's what she tells us or what we infer from her situation.
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As in The Professor of Poetry, McCleen writes beautifully, but at the end of the book I felt I was left with more questions than answers about Madeline. So much of the plot seems unlikely, particularly for its time period (2010 in the present day, circa 1989/90 for the sections featuring 13-year-old Madeline). It was helpful to imagine the story taking place in a slightly altered society, a dystopia-lite in which teenagers are irrevocably locked away in institutions for a single episode of amnesia, and individual doctors are free to impose punishing methods of treatment on the severely mentally ill without even a suggestion of regulation. It would have made so much more sense if set a century earlier; as it is, it's hard not to question many aspects of Madeline's story – whether it's what she tells us or what we infer from her situation.
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January 22, 2017
Opened this with delight, having read McCleen's Land of Decoration and The Professor of Poetry. I was not disappointed with the beautiful writing but the plot seemed rather to limp along with a lot of repetition during the interviews between the patient and her psychiatrist which comprise most of the text. As the protagonist is led back into her past the reader begins to expect some major epiphanic point where the reason for her illness is revealed with a subsequent cure. Although some causative experiences are examined there is no happy ending and there were some loose ends regarding the parents and what happened to the protagonist after the point at which the recalled past stops short. Although the ending is very sad, beautiful and touching it left me rather wanting something more but maybe that was the intended message. Despite this it's still a wonderful read but didn't quite live up to The Professor of Poetry which is one of my favourite books of all time.
June 24, 2015
I adored Grace McCleen's earlier novel The Land of Decoration, and The Offering similarly has as its protagonist a young girl growing up in relative isolation with religious fundamentalists, deeply confused about what she believes to be her relationship with God.
Image result for the offering grace mccleenTold partly from the point of view of the adult Madeline, now in a psychiatric institution and undergoing hypnosis at the direction of an ambiguous, almost sinister doctor, and partly in flashback, it's the story of Madeline's family's spiral of tragedy during the year they spent trying to make a life for themselves on a small farm on an unnamed island off the coast of England.
This is, from the outset, a somewhat unsettling novel, with a powerful sense of foreboding that hangs over both the past and present narratives, rather like the shadowy presence of the judgemental, threatening Old Testament God Madeline's father has taught her to fear. Darkness is always just around the corner, even when Madeline speaks of her love of the island and its natural landscape, or her touching bond with her dog Elijah, effectively her only friend. As the family sink into poverty and resentment, it's impossible not to share Madeline's own bitter anger at her father's stubborn insistence that God will provide, not to mention his dismissal of his wife's obvious suffering as she begins to succumb to depression, his beliefs as rigid as his temper is volatile. Meanwhile, in the present day there are obvious parallels between Madeline's father and Dr Lucas, the domineering psychiatrist.
Like The Land of Decoration, The Offering deals with the fine line between religious fervour and mental illness - 'hearing' the voice of God, for example, and a conviction that good and bad luck can be created and prevented by one's own actions, as well as a disturbing sense of low-level paranoia that comes from a genuine fear of the temptations of Satan. Entirely isolated from her peers (and indeed, terrified of them) the twin burdens of guilt and responsibility that weigh down on Madeline's shoulders are almost painful for us to read about, let alone for a 13-year-old girl to bear without lasting psychological damage.
Throughout the novel Grace McCleen weaves together the vivid, evocative prose of Madeline's suppressed memories and the drab institutional ugliness of the psychiatric hospital with a strong thread of lurking unease and, despite everything, the occasional spark of wry, observant humour. As befits a novel told from the point of view of a severely disturbed and presumably constantly medicated psychiatric patient, there is a slightly dream-like, drifting quality to certain sections, while others have a sense of very concrete, mundane reality.
Although The Offering is, undeniably, a terribly sad novel, it is also a beautiful and a powerful one - plus, I found it every bit as a gripping as a thriller. This is a book I will continue to think about for a very long time.
Image result for the offering grace mccleenTold partly from the point of view of the adult Madeline, now in a psychiatric institution and undergoing hypnosis at the direction of an ambiguous, almost sinister doctor, and partly in flashback, it's the story of Madeline's family's spiral of tragedy during the year they spent trying to make a life for themselves on a small farm on an unnamed island off the coast of England.
This is, from the outset, a somewhat unsettling novel, with a powerful sense of foreboding that hangs over both the past and present narratives, rather like the shadowy presence of the judgemental, threatening Old Testament God Madeline's father has taught her to fear. Darkness is always just around the corner, even when Madeline speaks of her love of the island and its natural landscape, or her touching bond with her dog Elijah, effectively her only friend. As the family sink into poverty and resentment, it's impossible not to share Madeline's own bitter anger at her father's stubborn insistence that God will provide, not to mention his dismissal of his wife's obvious suffering as she begins to succumb to depression, his beliefs as rigid as his temper is volatile. Meanwhile, in the present day there are obvious parallels between Madeline's father and Dr Lucas, the domineering psychiatrist.
Like The Land of Decoration, The Offering deals with the fine line between religious fervour and mental illness - 'hearing' the voice of God, for example, and a conviction that good and bad luck can be created and prevented by one's own actions, as well as a disturbing sense of low-level paranoia that comes from a genuine fear of the temptations of Satan. Entirely isolated from her peers (and indeed, terrified of them) the twin burdens of guilt and responsibility that weigh down on Madeline's shoulders are almost painful for us to read about, let alone for a 13-year-old girl to bear without lasting psychological damage.
Throughout the novel Grace McCleen weaves together the vivid, evocative prose of Madeline's suppressed memories and the drab institutional ugliness of the psychiatric hospital with a strong thread of lurking unease and, despite everything, the occasional spark of wry, observant humour. As befits a novel told from the point of view of a severely disturbed and presumably constantly medicated psychiatric patient, there is a slightly dream-like, drifting quality to certain sections, while others have a sense of very concrete, mundane reality.
Although The Offering is, undeniably, a terribly sad novel, it is also a beautiful and a powerful one - plus, I found it every bit as a gripping as a thriller. This is a book I will continue to think about for a very long time.
January 10, 2015
The story of Madeline, who has been a patient at a mental health facility for 20 years, since she was 14. She has no memories of the hours leading up to her "breakdown", and the new doctor, Dr Lucas, diagnoses dissociative amnesia and uses hypnotherapy and later drugs to recover those memories. The novel shifts continually between the infirmary in the present day and a twelve month period leading up to the crisis, during which Madeline and her parents move to "the island" to evangelise its inhabitants, buy a farm and struggle generally.
On the plus side: beautiful writing, although there were constant (too many?) references to light and nature/creation. I found the parallel time frames worked well - switching from one place of misery to a different one every chapter or so was a relief in a strange way.
But... while "The Professor of Poetry" is one of my favourite books, I really didn't like this one. The 13 year old Madeline seemed wrong for her age somehow - her mother was angry with her for crossing the road alone on a small island after they had moved from a city...? She seemed naive for her age in a way that homeschooled children I suppose can be, but she only stopped going to school when the family moved to the island. Then she was hospitalized and seems to have existed in a more or less hazy state for 20 years, but somehow has acquired a knowledge of medieval mystics and an at times clear-sighted, cynical view on life - I thought she slept all the time and barely got out of bed??
I find it hard to accept Dr Lucas could have been so cavalier with the new treatments he imposed on his patients and that there was no oversight of his "care" of them. Madeline and her parents seem to exist completely in isolation - didn't any aunts, uncles or cousins or public health nurses or overseers of homeschooled children ever check up on them? I know that Madeline describes (in her older world-weary voice) her father's particular theology as unique to him, but I didn't find it very convincing. There was a lot of mental ill-health here and not so much belief/religion. They never went to church and now and then they would go out preaching as if the author felt a need to remind us of how devout they were, but for chapters at a time Madeline just did her thing and communed with God in nature and, although there were the bible readings every evening it never seemed to me that her father's heart was really in it.
The ending was sickening; not so much the big reveal of the cause of Madeline's amnesia, but the fate of Dr Lucas and the adult Madeline. Sickening and also a bit melodramatic and unlikely and then very very sad. However, scope for one last "light" reference.
On the plus side: beautiful writing, although there were constant (too many?) references to light and nature/creation. I found the parallel time frames worked well - switching from one place of misery to a different one every chapter or so was a relief in a strange way.
But... while "The Professor of Poetry" is one of my favourite books, I really didn't like this one. The 13 year old Madeline seemed wrong for her age somehow - her mother was angry with her for crossing the road alone on a small island after they had moved from a city...? She seemed naive for her age in a way that homeschooled children I suppose can be, but she only stopped going to school when the family moved to the island. Then she was hospitalized and seems to have existed in a more or less hazy state for 20 years, but somehow has acquired a knowledge of medieval mystics and an at times clear-sighted, cynical view on life - I thought she slept all the time and barely got out of bed??
I find it hard to accept Dr Lucas could have been so cavalier with the new treatments he imposed on his patients and that there was no oversight of his "care" of them. Madeline and her parents seem to exist completely in isolation - didn't any aunts, uncles or cousins or public health nurses or overseers of homeschooled children ever check up on them? I know that Madeline describes (in her older world-weary voice) her father's particular theology as unique to him, but I didn't find it very convincing. There was a lot of mental ill-health here and not so much belief/religion. They never went to church and now and then they would go out preaching as if the author felt a need to remind us of how devout they were, but for chapters at a time Madeline just did her thing and communed with God in nature and, although there were the bible readings every evening it never seemed to me that her father's heart was really in it.
The ending was sickening; not so much the big reveal of the cause of Madeline's amnesia, but the fate of Dr Lucas and the adult Madeline. Sickening and also a bit melodramatic and unlikely and then very very sad. However, scope for one last "light" reference.
October 1, 2016
This book was okay. Just about. So 'okay' that I really don't have that much to say about it.
Character descriptions felt either skimmed or non-existent so I couldn't really relate to any of them or picture them at all. I didn't find the story line all that gripping either. A woman in a mental institution trying to remember a childhood event that triggered her illness, sounds interesting right? Right. Except that anything she thought was wrapped up in so many metaphors that I struggled to follow it and I didn't really understand the point of anything that she did.
Some things were left unanswered too, what happened to her parents after she went crazy? Leaving that out didn't feel poignant, it felt forgotten.
I stuck with it out of basic curiosity and found the ending completely underwhelming. This book really wasn't for me and if it had been any longer then I probably would have thrown it straight in the dnf pile.
Character descriptions felt either skimmed or non-existent so I couldn't really relate to any of them or picture them at all. I didn't find the story line all that gripping either. A woman in a mental institution trying to remember a childhood event that triggered her illness, sounds interesting right? Right. Except that anything she thought was wrapped up in so many metaphors that I struggled to follow it and I didn't really understand the point of anything that she did.
Some things were left unanswered too, what happened to her parents after she went crazy? Leaving that out didn't feel poignant, it felt forgotten.
I stuck with it out of basic curiosity and found the ending completely underwhelming. This book really wasn't for me and if it had been any longer then I probably would have thrown it straight in the dnf pile.
March 27, 2015
Madeline, now in midlife, still suffers from amnesia about the events which lead to her committal when she was fourteen. Her new therapist recommends hypnosis to unlock the secrets which continue to haunt her. The story of her isolated childhood with a strictly religious father and how it distorts and amplifies the hormone driven emotional changes, normal in the growing up process, unfolds.
This almost becomes a thriller – such is the reader’s curiosity to find out what did happen. The page turning is rewarded, there are indeed some gripping scenes. But more importantly, the simple lyrical writing combined with Grace McCleen’s understanding of and empathy with damaged and vulnerable people make this a stunning read.
December 5, 2014
full review soon - I wanted to try this author's writing again despite having mixed feelings about her first novel The Land of Decoration. Beautiful writing at times but it doesn't seem to hang together for me, if that makes sense!
April 26, 2015
Simplistic, but her words are deeply poetic. I enjoyed this.
May 14, 2018
At the heart of this taut and mesmeric book is a child who is trying to take control and responsibility when the adults around her are failing. Two stories running initially parallel then becoming more intertwined as the story reaches its climax. Present and past become more confused and lots of questions arise for the reader. How should mental illness be treated? Should the past be left alone or unpicked? Where was the support for a young, vulnerable child?
Gorgeous descriptions of the farm outdoors in the past contrasting so strongly with the sterile environment of the psychiatric hospital in the present. Beautifully written.
Gorgeous descriptions of the farm outdoors in the past contrasting so strongly with the sterile environment of the psychiatric hospital in the present. Beautifully written.
July 21, 2019
Not at all sure how to rate this book: I did not ‘enjoy’ reading it at all, but the subject matter is vitally important, the descriptions of nature poetic, and the author’s ability to convey the inner life of Madeline intriguing.
For those readers who have personal experience of fundamentalist religious family environments, I offer trigger warnings in their multiples! It is not an easy read for us. For those looking for insight into the ways such environments can damage young people, I entreat you to choose to believe this novel contains realities, even though you may be fortunate enough not to have known such first hand.
For those readers who have personal experience of fundamentalist religious family environments, I offer trigger warnings in their multiples! It is not an easy read for us. For those looking for insight into the ways such environments can damage young people, I entreat you to choose to believe this novel contains realities, even though you may be fortunate enough not to have known such first hand.
March 9, 2020
This novel is so intense! Beautifully written but disturbing too. Madeline has been incarcerated in an infirmary for the mentally ill for 20 years with seemingly little progress made to recover her memory of a traumatic event which happened when she was 14. There’s lots of religious symbolism in the novel as we venture back to Madeline’s past to find out what happened. The isolated farmhouse where she lived with her evangelical parents has its own Garden of Eden where she literally gets sick of eating apples! Descriptions of the landscape and the natural world are exquisite and is what makes this book exceptional. The ending was a shock to me but I should have seen it coming.
February 25, 2021
This book is beautifully written I actually read aloud some of the passages because I loved the sound she makes with her words.
However I spotted what was coming half way through and just couldn’t go there, I simply do not want to read about animal cruelty no matter the psychology behind it. There should really be a warning. I will be upset now for weeks about Elijah. I wish I hadn’t started reading it.
However I spotted what was coming half way through and just couldn’t go there, I simply do not want to read about animal cruelty no matter the psychology behind it. There should really be a warning. I will be upset now for weeks about Elijah. I wish I hadn’t started reading it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 16, 2017
Some similarities (religion and a young female main character and its effect on her) between this and her first novel, 'The Land of Decoration' (which I enjoyed). I quite enjoyed this one - I thought the portrayal of the family life was very good, the institution bit a less so.
June 12, 2017
This book was not what I expected; it was better. It was predictable alright, but somehow that did not matter to me much. The suspense wasn't in what was going to happen next, I just liked the writing; the way reality intertwined with Madeline's "fantasies".
December 25, 2025
I really liked the writing I thought it was so beautiful however I thought the story itself was mid and what it was building up to at the end just didn’t seem to fit. I thought the ending was clumsy and left a lot of loose ends.
October 23, 2018
It had some good moments and good writing but for me, the setting was too vague and the structure too samey to really be engaging.
January 3, 2021
This is pure poetry. Love the writing style
August 31, 2022
best person you know - lowertown
May 3, 2015
One of the aspects of this book I enjoyed the most was the skill with which the writer describes the natural world from the perspective of her central character, Madeline Adamson, whose disturbed mind and unconscious is the subject of the novel.
The alluring and over-confident new psychiatrist, Dr Lucas, at Lethem Park mental infirmary in England, where Madeline has been a patient since the age of fourteen, decides that Madeline has been suffering from dissociative amnesia, explaining why she is unable to remember what happened before she became a patient. Putting her under hypnosis, the reader is allowed into Grace’s unconscious memories of her childhood growing up on a remote island with her parents who are both zealous Christian preachers determined to spread the Word. Ostracized and isolated, and schooled at home on a remote farmhouse, we discover that the pernicious influence her parents’ blind faith in the providence of God as they struggle to find work and create a home on the island. Along with Dr Lucas, we see glimpses of her thoughts written in a diary, that suggest that she increasingly views herself to blame for the family's failure to find work or integrate into their local community.
McCleen’s use of the present tense and the technique of focalization of Madeline’s sense of the divine, is an effective strategy for conveying the dream-like quality as she relives her memory while under hypnosis. At points, McCleen very cleverly evokes the sensation of suspension between two worlds: the transition between the moment a person both under and awakens is captured perfectly. In particular, Madeline’s narrative is also striking for the way she often uses synaesthesia: describing one sense in terms of another sense, especially heightened emotions and sensations in terms of colours, and for its surrealistic imagery:
‘I cannot describe how good the water felt. The burden of my skin was instantly lighter. Mud billowed between my toes in mushroom clouds. Pond-skaters dimpled the light on the surface. Dragonflies hovered. I floated, engorged sun tickling my eyelids, teasing them into an ecstasy of honeyed somnolence, till tears slipped from the corners, and when I opened them the fields had been changed to purple and blue. Around me the irises rustled their papery leaves. They unfurled their tongues, splayed wide their gullets, yawned down to the stamen, only to curve away, sting-like, in whorls of mottled flesh. They bore more resemblance to insects than plants, I thought, their palette of dark chocolate sigils, a scribbled death’s head – and they were already dying when I found them, dry blades clustered behind each fluted head’ (p.130).
The natural world of the island, especially the garden, the river she is forbidden to swim in, and the sea, are also described in visionary and elemental terms that are both beautiful in their simplicity and sensuously poetic:
‘Before the dew had dried, the fierce sun appeared to be pulsing. Small breezes faltered and expired. The horizon was hazy, the ground scorching. Only late in the day did the heat lessen a little, shadows ticking by at the base of the pine as the sun slipped lower, tamer now, warmed lips and eyes, yet still flared sudden through apple tree boughs; lit grasses and leaves, and dragonfly wings, as if concealed within each was a living coal, and veins held not sap but blood, skeins of jewel and flame. The moment the sun sank quivering into the earth was an incarnation and things toppled backwards, laid low by its might.’ (p.125-126).
Blood is a resonant motif throughout Madeline’s story, as is the Biblical story of Issac and Abraham from the Old Testament. Brought up to believe in the Mosaic law of the covenant, the reader discovers that this idea of a sacrifice, or an ‘offering’, to atone for guilt and supposed ‘sin’ is taken to its ultimate extreme in a shocking way that is a warning against religious mania and literalism.
The alluring and over-confident new psychiatrist, Dr Lucas, at Lethem Park mental infirmary in England, where Madeline has been a patient since the age of fourteen, decides that Madeline has been suffering from dissociative amnesia, explaining why she is unable to remember what happened before she became a patient. Putting her under hypnosis, the reader is allowed into Grace’s unconscious memories of her childhood growing up on a remote island with her parents who are both zealous Christian preachers determined to spread the Word. Ostracized and isolated, and schooled at home on a remote farmhouse, we discover that the pernicious influence her parents’ blind faith in the providence of God as they struggle to find work and create a home on the island. Along with Dr Lucas, we see glimpses of her thoughts written in a diary, that suggest that she increasingly views herself to blame for the family's failure to find work or integrate into their local community.
McCleen’s use of the present tense and the technique of focalization of Madeline’s sense of the divine, is an effective strategy for conveying the dream-like quality as she relives her memory while under hypnosis. At points, McCleen very cleverly evokes the sensation of suspension between two worlds: the transition between the moment a person both under and awakens is captured perfectly. In particular, Madeline’s narrative is also striking for the way she often uses synaesthesia: describing one sense in terms of another sense, especially heightened emotions and sensations in terms of colours, and for its surrealistic imagery:
‘I cannot describe how good the water felt. The burden of my skin was instantly lighter. Mud billowed between my toes in mushroom clouds. Pond-skaters dimpled the light on the surface. Dragonflies hovered. I floated, engorged sun tickling my eyelids, teasing them into an ecstasy of honeyed somnolence, till tears slipped from the corners, and when I opened them the fields had been changed to purple and blue. Around me the irises rustled their papery leaves. They unfurled their tongues, splayed wide their gullets, yawned down to the stamen, only to curve away, sting-like, in whorls of mottled flesh. They bore more resemblance to insects than plants, I thought, their palette of dark chocolate sigils, a scribbled death’s head – and they were already dying when I found them, dry blades clustered behind each fluted head’ (p.130).
The natural world of the island, especially the garden, the river she is forbidden to swim in, and the sea, are also described in visionary and elemental terms that are both beautiful in their simplicity and sensuously poetic:
‘Before the dew had dried, the fierce sun appeared to be pulsing. Small breezes faltered and expired. The horizon was hazy, the ground scorching. Only late in the day did the heat lessen a little, shadows ticking by at the base of the pine as the sun slipped lower, tamer now, warmed lips and eyes, yet still flared sudden through apple tree boughs; lit grasses and leaves, and dragonfly wings, as if concealed within each was a living coal, and veins held not sap but blood, skeins of jewel and flame. The moment the sun sank quivering into the earth was an incarnation and things toppled backwards, laid low by its might.’ (p.125-126).
Blood is a resonant motif throughout Madeline’s story, as is the Biblical story of Issac and Abraham from the Old Testament. Brought up to believe in the Mosaic law of the covenant, the reader discovers that this idea of a sacrifice, or an ‘offering’, to atone for guilt and supposed ‘sin’ is taken to its ultimate extreme in a shocking way that is a warning against religious mania and literalism.
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August 11, 2015The Offering is the third novel about mental illness I’ve read this year and it was the one I enjoyed the least.
It’s a tale of a troubled past told by Madelaine who’s been a patient at a mental infirmary for the past 20 years. It’s clear that she has recently committed some terrible act of violence, though Madelaine apparently doesn’t know what she has done or why she is in the infirmary. All of this comes to light through hypnotherapy sessions with Dr Lucas, a newly-arrived specialist who diagnoses that Madelaine has “dissociative amnesia”. He wants her to reconstruct the events leading to her committal to the institution on her 14th birthday.
In the journal Madelaine is encouraged to keep we get a sense of her feelings after these sessions and her discomfort as the hypnotherapy takes her down uncomfortable paths. Her past is revealed as the child of poverty-stricken evangelists who move to a derelict farmhouse in a remote location on an island. The girl roams the fields, searching for God in a Garden of Eden like the one that illustrates the family bible. Faced with a domineering father and a mother suffering from depression, Madeline turns to the Old Testament for a solution.
There are some passages of beautiful lyrical writing as the girl takes her rites of passage adventures amongst nature, leading her into the occasional out of body experience. But overall, this was a disappointing novel. There was much that wasn’t really explained such as why people on the island were so hostile to Madelaine’s father, pretending no work was available for him and then sacking him without reason, or the source of her mother’s illness.
But mainly I think I didnt enjoy this book was because I couldn’t relate to Madelaine in the same way I did with the narrators in Emma Healey’s Elizabeth is Missing (reviewed here) or Nathan Filer’s Shock of the Fall. Madelaine didn’t ring true to me. Though she says she sleeps most of the time, and is on a high dosage of medication, she has somehow developed a knowledge of medieval mystics. She seems oblivious to her own situation in the infirmary and yet demonstrates great insight when she observes other patients and a clear-sighted, if cynical, view on life and the true purpose of Dr Lucas interest in her case is to boost his career.
Dr Lucas has an agenda and I am part of it: he stands to win or lose depending on the result of my treatment… In any case I have an agenda too, entitled “release’. Everyone has an agenda, its just a question of who reads whose first. If, however, I am to be a pawn deployed to prove or disprove his theory….. then it is crucial to let the mover believe the pawn is a pawn, and oblivious to his intent.
The more the book progressed the less convinced I became by her as a character and consequently not that interested in discovering what happened on the day of her birthday.
The Offering was the third of the 2015 Jerwood Fiction Uncovered prize winners I’ve read recently and the one that left me underwhelmed.
It’s a tale of a troubled past told by Madelaine who’s been a patient at a mental infirmary for the past 20 years. It’s clear that she has recently committed some terrible act of violence, though Madelaine apparently doesn’t know what she has done or why she is in the infirmary. All of this comes to light through hypnotherapy sessions with Dr Lucas, a newly-arrived specialist who diagnoses that Madelaine has “dissociative amnesia”. He wants her to reconstruct the events leading to her committal to the institution on her 14th birthday.
In the journal Madelaine is encouraged to keep we get a sense of her feelings after these sessions and her discomfort as the hypnotherapy takes her down uncomfortable paths. Her past is revealed as the child of poverty-stricken evangelists who move to a derelict farmhouse in a remote location on an island. The girl roams the fields, searching for God in a Garden of Eden like the one that illustrates the family bible. Faced with a domineering father and a mother suffering from depression, Madeline turns to the Old Testament for a solution.
There are some passages of beautiful lyrical writing as the girl takes her rites of passage adventures amongst nature, leading her into the occasional out of body experience. But overall, this was a disappointing novel. There was much that wasn’t really explained such as why people on the island were so hostile to Madelaine’s father, pretending no work was available for him and then sacking him without reason, or the source of her mother’s illness.
But mainly I think I didnt enjoy this book was because I couldn’t relate to Madelaine in the same way I did with the narrators in Emma Healey’s Elizabeth is Missing (reviewed here) or Nathan Filer’s Shock of the Fall. Madelaine didn’t ring true to me. Though she says she sleeps most of the time, and is on a high dosage of medication, she has somehow developed a knowledge of medieval mystics. She seems oblivious to her own situation in the infirmary and yet demonstrates great insight when she observes other patients and a clear-sighted, if cynical, view on life and the true purpose of Dr Lucas interest in her case is to boost his career.
Dr Lucas has an agenda and I am part of it: he stands to win or lose depending on the result of my treatment… In any case I have an agenda too, entitled “release’. Everyone has an agenda, its just a question of who reads whose first. If, however, I am to be a pawn deployed to prove or disprove his theory….. then it is crucial to let the mover believe the pawn is a pawn, and oblivious to his intent.
The more the book progressed the less convinced I became by her as a character and consequently not that interested in discovering what happened on the day of her birthday.
The Offering was the third of the 2015 Jerwood Fiction Uncovered prize winners I’ve read recently and the one that left me underwhelmed.
February 10, 2015
I received a copy of this book from the publishers via their #bethefirst campaign on Twitter which allows winners of Twitter competitions to have early access to certain titles.
Madeline is incarcerated in a mental asylum, having lived there for over 20 years, she has come to accept her life in an institution. One day a new doctor, Dr Lucas, decides to try to unlock memories of what happened on Madeline's fourteenth birthday, and with it, gives hope to Madeline that she may one day be released. As the treatment progresses Madeline struggles with memories that re-emerge and wonders if the promise of release is worth the pain the memories trigger.
There is an air of melancholy and detachedness that runs through this novel. This reflects Madeline's outlook on the world, she has detached herself from the outside world, so long ago now she cannot, or will not remember why.
Whilst religion runs through this book it less about every day beliefs and more about religious zealotry and dogma. It plays a major part in Madeline's breakdown, though it is unclear whether it is because of her religious indoctrination that her breakdown plays out as it does, or despite it. As the story develops and the more we learn of her parents, it becomes clear that although her upbringing is unusual, and will have affected her mental state, Madeline's condition may also have been hereditary. However, Madeline is an unreliable narrator and we can never be sure what is fact and what is fiction. This is not an easy read, and part of that has to be intentional and due to the fact that Madeline is such an unreliable narrator.
What I did find shocking was how those with a mental illness were treated in the institution. There was a distinct lack of rehabilitation apparent, it appeared more like the patients were inmates and spent most of the time drugged to keep them compliant. It was more reminiscent of how one would imagine such patients were treated in the past than in the 21st Century.
I struggled with the book at times. Not because of all the religious connotations, I let these wash over me, but more with the language fourteen year old Madeline uses in her diary entries. This was not the language I would assume, rightly or wrongly, would come easily and naturally to a teenager on the brink of puberty. I found myself more interested in the older Madeline, and how she was responding to treatment than to the younger Madeline and her journey to being institutionalised.
When it comes, the release Madeline gains, is perhaps not the one she thought she was seeking, but the one she needed nonetheless.
In summary a book I found equally interesting, frustrating, uncomfortable and thought-provoking.
Madeline is incarcerated in a mental asylum, having lived there for over 20 years, she has come to accept her life in an institution. One day a new doctor, Dr Lucas, decides to try to unlock memories of what happened on Madeline's fourteenth birthday, and with it, gives hope to Madeline that she may one day be released. As the treatment progresses Madeline struggles with memories that re-emerge and wonders if the promise of release is worth the pain the memories trigger.
There is an air of melancholy and detachedness that runs through this novel. This reflects Madeline's outlook on the world, she has detached herself from the outside world, so long ago now she cannot, or will not remember why.
Whilst religion runs through this book it less about every day beliefs and more about religious zealotry and dogma. It plays a major part in Madeline's breakdown, though it is unclear whether it is because of her religious indoctrination that her breakdown plays out as it does, or despite it. As the story develops and the more we learn of her parents, it becomes clear that although her upbringing is unusual, and will have affected her mental state, Madeline's condition may also have been hereditary. However, Madeline is an unreliable narrator and we can never be sure what is fact and what is fiction. This is not an easy read, and part of that has to be intentional and due to the fact that Madeline is such an unreliable narrator.
What I did find shocking was how those with a mental illness were treated in the institution. There was a distinct lack of rehabilitation apparent, it appeared more like the patients were inmates and spent most of the time drugged to keep them compliant. It was more reminiscent of how one would imagine such patients were treated in the past than in the 21st Century.
I struggled with the book at times. Not because of all the religious connotations, I let these wash over me, but more with the language fourteen year old Madeline uses in her diary entries. This was not the language I would assume, rightly or wrongly, would come easily and naturally to a teenager on the brink of puberty. I found myself more interested in the older Madeline, and how she was responding to treatment than to the younger Madeline and her journey to being institutionalised.
When it comes, the release Madeline gains, is perhaps not the one she thought she was seeking, but the one she needed nonetheless.
In summary a book I found equally interesting, frustrating, uncomfortable and thought-provoking.
March 23, 2015
Wow this is a very dark and seductive read !! Being drawn into the Proustian world of Madeline's (sic) hallucinatory world I feared at times that I would never get out again, but then when I paused from reading I would feel that old temptation creeping over me to get back into Madeline's unreliable world, the world of her memories under Dr. Lucas's hypnotherapeutic sessions. Yet anything to escape the cloying and claustrophobic world of the lunatic asylum that she discovers herself in.
Grace McCleen's narrative weaves religiously maniacal doctrine ( the most disturbing I have ever read) with the child-woman's longings to understand her treacherous body and her search for Home and God. This very disturbing novel is probably not for everyone. I can only assume that the author has been personally involved with patients suffering from religious mania or that she has done some very in depth or clinical research or maybe, and most disturbingly, this is a work of therapy.
The language, unreliable as it is seen in a Caligariesque way through the eyes of a mental patient, is at once poetic and pungent; you can really smell the farm on the island, Madeline's sensory world is the strongest she inhabits and child-like (and Proust like) it is the smells and tastes that are the most evocative under hypnosis.
The book is written in short pieces, almost like meditation tracts with evocative titles such as "The Gift" , "The River" , "The Bird",and "The Cost of Memory" several of which are almost stand alone shorts. Each section is headed with a book from the bible.
Not an easy read but ultimately a worthwhile reading experience, I would not have missed it and yet it has haunted me and its true evocation is that it has made me look at the daily world in a slightly different way than before
Grace McCleen's narrative weaves religiously maniacal doctrine ( the most disturbing I have ever read) with the child-woman's longings to understand her treacherous body and her search for Home and God. This very disturbing novel is probably not for everyone. I can only assume that the author has been personally involved with patients suffering from religious mania or that she has done some very in depth or clinical research or maybe, and most disturbingly, this is a work of therapy.
The language, unreliable as it is seen in a Caligariesque way through the eyes of a mental patient, is at once poetic and pungent; you can really smell the farm on the island, Madeline's sensory world is the strongest she inhabits and child-like (and Proust like) it is the smells and tastes that are the most evocative under hypnosis.
The book is written in short pieces, almost like meditation tracts with evocative titles such as "The Gift" , "The River" , "The Bird",and "The Cost of Memory" several of which are almost stand alone shorts. Each section is headed with a book from the bible.
Not an easy read but ultimately a worthwhile reading experience, I would not have missed it and yet it has haunted me and its true evocation is that it has made me look at the daily world in a slightly different way than before
October 24, 2015
Read this review on my blog
This is a pretty interesting story - it is beautifully written and just chock full of breathtaking descriptions of living in the countryside. The story is separated into five sections, each named after the first five books of the Hebrew Bible: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. This added a layer of religious symbolism to the story that I appreciated.
I was dying to find out what exactly had happened to Madeline for her to end up with Amnesia and so desperately wanted to reach the conclusion of the story; however, I did find certain parts to be a bit too slow paced for me - but that may not be an issue for other people who like to relish rich descriptions of the environment and character observations. But oh my, when the conclusion of the story came it was not for readers faint of heart. I positively felt sick.
I also like an explained back-story and why Madeline's family moved to 'The Island' or where indeed 'The Island' was located was never explained. Nor was it explained where they came from and why they moved there. It was all a bit vague and I didn't really understand what the point of it all was. This may have been purposefully done by the author in order to be as in the dark and confused as Madeline was as a child, but it maddened me.
Pros
Beautifully written and poignantly structured
Page turner
Exploration of mental health issues
Cons
A bit too slow paced in parts
Lack of description of why Madeline's family moved to 'the farm' on 'the island' - or where they had come from
December 1, 2025
I personally found this to be a lovely descriptive read and really interesting - reviews are quite harsh. I found it to be a nice easy read
December 27, 2014
Madeline is in a psychiatric hospital following an unspecified but deeply damaging trauma in her teenage years. When a new doctor is appointed, he determines to impose new treatments to probe into Madeline’s past and the reasons for her problems. Gradually the circumstances of her past are revealed, and the damage done to her by her fundamentalist father is exposed. Religious fanaticism and dysfunctional families, mental trauma and its resultant mental illness and the methods for treating it are all explored here in this interesting but basically flawed novel. Much of the story is told through Madeline’s teenage diary and the voice is far too literate for a 13 year old girl, and her thoughts too knowing and mature. Her life at home with her family and the effect of her father’s fanaticism are hinted at rather than fully explored and the St Teresa-like experiences she has seem out of proportion. Then later she is too articulate for a long-term institutionalised patient and too judgemental of her doctor for someone who has been shut away for so long. As I didn’t find Madeline’s voice convincing I found it difficult to enter into her situation and relate to her. Secondly the other patients in the hospital are too polarised and seem to be types rather than rounded human beings, put there purely as a foil to Madeline herself.
Nevertheless this dark and disturbing book is indeed thought-provoking and the sense of gathering menace and tension is well controlled and paced. An interesting if not always totally convincing novel.
Nevertheless this dark and disturbing book is indeed thought-provoking and the sense of gathering menace and tension is well controlled and paced. An interesting if not always totally convincing novel.
July 13, 2015
Discovered wandering and amnesiac when she was ten years old, Madeline, now in her mid-thirties, has been locked away in an asylum where she has become deeply institutionalized. However when a new doctor arrives he is determined to get her to recall the events of her childhood.
Aided by the diary she kept at the time, Madeline reluctantly sets out on a journey towards recollection, painfully reliving the claustrophobic experiences of a childhood dominated by the religious zeal of her father, a childhood in which she perceives the world with a hallucinogenic intensity:
"All around me the garden rustles and sways. It watches, it tries to distract me. As I look at it, green becomes greener, the flowers glow like little lights...At night when I take off my clothes there are seeds in my socks, there are stains on my knees, my nails have soil beneath them and my hair smells of sky."
Struggling to make sense of what she sees, Madeline uses the only frame of reference she knows - the stories of the bible. The result is a vivid and passionate confusion in which poverty, isolation, and a passionate response to the natural world are all mixed up with her understanding of the personality of God.
But when sexuality begins to dawn, Madeline comes to believe she is responsible for the financial mire into which the family is steadily sinking. She has sinned and the only way out, she decides, is sacrifice.
Brimming over with the dazzling and terrible light of childhood, this is a courageous and compelling study of innocence and misplaced spirituality.
Aided by the diary she kept at the time, Madeline reluctantly sets out on a journey towards recollection, painfully reliving the claustrophobic experiences of a childhood dominated by the religious zeal of her father, a childhood in which she perceives the world with a hallucinogenic intensity:
"All around me the garden rustles and sways. It watches, it tries to distract me. As I look at it, green becomes greener, the flowers glow like little lights...At night when I take off my clothes there are seeds in my socks, there are stains on my knees, my nails have soil beneath them and my hair smells of sky."
Struggling to make sense of what she sees, Madeline uses the only frame of reference she knows - the stories of the bible. The result is a vivid and passionate confusion in which poverty, isolation, and a passionate response to the natural world are all mixed up with her understanding of the personality of God.
But when sexuality begins to dawn, Madeline comes to believe she is responsible for the financial mire into which the family is steadily sinking. She has sinned and the only way out, she decides, is sacrifice.
Brimming over with the dazzling and terrible light of childhood, this is a courageous and compelling study of innocence and misplaced spirituality.
August 11, 2015
WOW! 5++ Stars!
#3WordReview ~ 'Hypnotic, Eerie, Outstanding!'
I've been drawn to 'The Offering' every time I walk past it at the branch of Waterstones I work at. After having finished it, I honestly am kicking myself for not picking it up and reading it sooner! I mean; wow! What an astonishing, heart-felt and brilliantly written book this was.
With beautiful lyrical prose, which switches seamlessly from short and direct when we see Madeline at the mental health facility where she is a patient, to wonderfully descriptive, meaningful descriptions of her childhood and search for God, which is accompanied by a prayer-like reverence.
Grace McClean did an outstanding job at creating such a well-rounded character, and brilliantly paced novel. Not once did I feel myself tiring of Madeline's time in the mental health facility, or of her time as a child. They switched at the perfect points and this was a great way of keeping the suspense high, as I picked up clues along with Madeline.
McClean also made this story so relatable to everyday issues, without trying to fit too much in. With the issues of mental health and how religion can take over the mind, this novel incorporated so much of the real world whilst keeping it detailed as though through the limited scope of a young girl who knows nothing of the outside world.
This story really was something special. I connected to Madeline, and McClean's honest portrayal of childhood life brought back memories of my own childhood. A stunning, stunning book!
5++ Stars!
#3WordReview ~ 'Hypnotic, Eerie, Outstanding!'
I've been drawn to 'The Offering' every time I walk past it at the branch of Waterstones I work at. After having finished it, I honestly am kicking myself for not picking it up and reading it sooner! I mean; wow! What an astonishing, heart-felt and brilliantly written book this was.
With beautiful lyrical prose, which switches seamlessly from short and direct when we see Madeline at the mental health facility where she is a patient, to wonderfully descriptive, meaningful descriptions of her childhood and search for God, which is accompanied by a prayer-like reverence.
Grace McClean did an outstanding job at creating such a well-rounded character, and brilliantly paced novel. Not once did I feel myself tiring of Madeline's time in the mental health facility, or of her time as a child. They switched at the perfect points and this was a great way of keeping the suspense high, as I picked up clues along with Madeline.
McClean also made this story so relatable to everyday issues, without trying to fit too much in. With the issues of mental health and how religion can take over the mind, this novel incorporated so much of the real world whilst keeping it detailed as though through the limited scope of a young girl who knows nothing of the outside world.
This story really was something special. I connected to Madeline, and McClean's honest portrayal of childhood life brought back memories of my own childhood. A stunning, stunning book!
5++ Stars!
May 3, 2015
This book is heartbreakingly good. It's a muted, understated exploration of the damage to one young teenager by the religious abuse of her father and her mother's fear of him. Yet it's very, very readable, perhaps because it is understated. There are disturbing parallels between the father's religious zeal and the zeal of the psychiatrist later and the frightening violation of the latter's rummaging around in her psyche without her real permission (they both do) - but she thinks she must agree to it to get out. The Christian idea of blood sacrifice as a system of belief underpins much of the book and reaches its moving and inevitable conclusion in the actions of the young girl in an almost pitch perfect scene to which the reader is led with a lot of skill, at the same time then left fully understanding her total isolation, and self-blame, which are the only options her upbringing offers her. The two voices of the young girl and herself 21 years later, still incarcerated, are decidedly different. The reader is constantly reminded that the young girl who is telling her story, is then locked away for 21 years. Like all good books I wanted to keep reading it but I didn't want to get to the end. And after I had finished, I wasn't ready to leave the world she had created, or go on to another book. I thought it would make the shortlist of the Bailey's Women's Prize.
January 19, 2017
It took me a long time to get into this book as it was slow to start and I didn’t enjoy the author’s rambling poetic style. When the story finally took off I realized what was coming and almost didn’t finish it (in fact, I skipped the chapter “The Land’s Edge”).
This is the story of 13-year-old Madeline who has been brought up by her preacher parents on a diet of “Jesus is our Saviour” but also with an emphasis on sins (not least among them the sin of “unnatural desires”, of course) and a vengeful, bloodthirsty old-testament God. When the family moves to an island to convert the local "unbelievers” Madeline is determined to find God that summer and keeps a journal on her quest whose entries - even considering her upbringing - don’t sound like anything such a young girl would write : too serious, intense, articulate, abstract.
When the family falls on very hard times due to rejection by the islanders she feels that God has forsaken them because of a “terrible sin” committed by her. Having been instructed that forgiveness can only be obtained by a bloody sacrifice (as in Abraham and Isaac) she acts according to her belief with terrible consequences for herself.
This is a dark, disturbing, depressing book which I will definitely not read a second time.
This is the story of 13-year-old Madeline who has been brought up by her preacher parents on a diet of “Jesus is our Saviour” but also with an emphasis on sins (not least among them the sin of “unnatural desires”, of course) and a vengeful, bloodthirsty old-testament God. When the family moves to an island to convert the local "unbelievers” Madeline is determined to find God that summer and keeps a journal on her quest whose entries - even considering her upbringing - don’t sound like anything such a young girl would write : too serious, intense, articulate, abstract.
When the family falls on very hard times due to rejection by the islanders she feels that God has forsaken them because of a “terrible sin” committed by her. Having been instructed that forgiveness can only be obtained by a bloody sacrifice (as in Abraham and Isaac) she acts according to her belief with terrible consequences for herself.
This is a dark, disturbing, depressing book which I will definitely not read a second time.
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