If you’re a horror lover like me, you know how hard it can be to switch gears to something entirely different. Whether it’s stepping away from the blood, guts, and unsettling atmospheres of slashers to watch a lighthearted rom-com or diving into a sci-fi flick filled with futuristic tech, the shift can feel jarring. The same goes for reading. Sometimes it’s tough to leave behind eerie settings, distorted realities, and spine-tingling tension for a genre that doesn’t thrive entirely on fear. But every once in a while, even the most die-hard horror fan needs a break from the delicious weirdness and spookiness that defines the genre we love. A little reset button, if you will. Something to clear the brain, recharge the synapses, and make returning to horror feel even more exciting and rewarding.
This time, my recharge came in the form of 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 by TJ Klune, a book that manages to have a little bit of everything: supernatural forces, thrills, chills, and a cast of unforgettable characters who embody what it means to be human, even when one of them is anything but. This is one of those rare gems you wish you could read again for the first time, not just because it’s good (and trust me, it’s 𝙤𝙝 𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙), but because it leaves a mark on your soul in a way few books can.
TJ Klune has always captivated me with his writing. His books are effortlessly readable, filled with characters who slowly but surely become part of your heart. And the way he writes about love, in all its forms, is nothing short of magical. It’s like Baskin Robbins’ 31 flavors of ice cream, but better, because every flavor is rich, complex, and unforgettable. From 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚 to the 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐤 series, I have yet to find a TJ Klune book I didn’t adore. Each one has stuck with me long after the last page, and every reread reveals new layers and hidden details I missed the first time around.
There are lessons tucked into every page of Klune’s stories, like lessons about finding your forever family even when they’re not bound by blood, about embracing grief and finding hope in the darkest moments, and about loving yourself unapologetically. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 is no exception. In fact, this book taught me so much about the human condition through the eyes of a little girl who is anything but human.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘖𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘖𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯. 𝘖𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴.” This paragraph captures the essence of this book beautifully.
Set in the spring of 1995, the story follows Nate Cartwright, a man who has lost everything: his parents have died, his estranged brother wants nothing to do with him, and he’s just been fired from his journalism job in Washington, D.C. With no direction and nothing left to lose, Nate retreats to his family’s summer cabin in Roseland, Oregon, hoping to find some clarity. But instead of solitude, he finds Alex, a mysterious man, and Artemis Darth Vader, an extraordinary 10-year-old girl who is far more than she seems.
As Nate becomes entangled in their lives, he faces a choice: allow himself to drown in the ghosts of his past or fight for a future he never thought possible. Because Artemis is special (remarkably so), and there are forces closing in that will stop at nothing to control her.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 hit me hard, so hard that I found myself ugly crying more times than I could count. It’s the kind of story that doesn’t just tug at your heartstrings; it yanks them, twists them, and ties them into knots before offering the gentlest, most bittersweet release. I felt everything while reading this: the deep ache of loneliness, the warmth of unexpected connection, the pulse of fear, and the sheer, unrelenting power of love in all its forms. Nate, Alex, and Art aren’t just characters; they feel like living, breathing souls who burrow their way into your heart and refuse to let go. Their journey is filled with so much tenderness and pain, so much hope and devastation, that by the time I turned the last page, I felt like I had lived a whole lifetime alongside them.
If you need a break from horror but still crave something with emotional depth, suspense, and a touch of the supernatural, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 is the book to pick up. It’s a story that lingers, one that leaves fingerprints on your soul. And trust me, you won’t regret a single second of it, even when you’re wiping away tears and clutching the book to your chest, wishing you could experience it for the first time all over again. 🥓
(Thank you, Tor Books, for gifting me with a finished copy of this beautiful book!)