There are certain books that remind you exactly why you fell in love with young adult fiction in the first place—stories that balance genuine darkness with the kind of hope that feels both hard-won and absolutely necessary. I, in the Shadows by Tori Bovalino is exactly that kind of book, managing to be heartbreaking and uplifting often within the same chapter.
The premise immediately grabbed my attention: Drew moves into a new house and discovers she’s sharing her bedroom with Liam, the ghost of the teenage boy who died there ten months earlier. What could have been a quirky supernatural comedy instead becomes something much more emotionally complex, exploring grief, identity, and the desperate human need to know that we mattered.
Drew’s ability to see and communicate with ghosts is portrayed as both gift and burden in ways that felt genuinely thoughtful. Bovalino doesn’t romanticize this power—she shows how terrifying and isolating it would be to constantly perceive a layer of reality that most people can’t access. Drew’s backstory reveals the toll this ability has taken on her life, the way it’s shaped her relationships and sense of normalcy.
Liam exists in this heartbreaking liminal space between life and death, unable to move forward but painfully aware of everything he’s missing. The way Bovalino captures his desperation to know if people remember him, if his life mattered, if his absence has left any mark at all—it’s absolutely gutting. His struggle feels achingly real despite the supernatural premise.
The addition of a soul-devouring entity stalking Liam raises the stakes beyond simple ghost story territory. This isn’t just about helping a spirit move on peacefully—there’s genuine danger here, a threat that makes Drew’s assistance crucial rather than simply kind. The horror elements never overwhelm the emotional core but add urgency that keeps the plot moving.
What makes this book particularly interesting is how morally complicated it allows its characters to be. Drew agrees to help Liam with his demon problem, but she’s also motivated by the fact that he was best friends with Hannah, the girl Drew has been hopelessly crushing on. Using a dead boy to get closer to his former best friend is objectively terrible, and Bovalino doesn’t shy away from that reality.
This is where the book really won me over—Bovalino creates characters who make genuinely questionable choices without becoming unsympathetic. Drew isn’t a bad person, but she’s a teenager dealing with complicated feelings and making decisions that serve her own interests alongside her desire to help. It’s messy and realistic in ways that young adult fiction sometimes avoids.
Liam’s own complications add layers to what could have been a simple “help the ghost move on” narrative. His unrequited love for Hannah during his life creates this painful dynamic where death hasn’t resolved his feelings, only made them more complicated. He’s simultaneously trying to let go and desperate to maintain connection, wanting Hannah to move forward while also needing to know she hasn’t forgotten him.
Hannah herself emerges as more than just the object of various people’s affection. Bovalino gives her genuine interiority, showing her grief and confusion as she navigates life after losing her best friend. The way she’s processing Liam’s death while trying to move forward with her own life feels authentic rather than convenient to the plot.
The supporting cast enriches the story without cluttering it. Each character brings distinct energy and perspective, creating a world that feels populated by actual people rather than plot devices. Their interactions reveal character through dialogue and behavior rather than exposition.
What impressed me most was Bovalino’s handling of grief in all its complicated forms. Liam grieves his own life and all the experiences he’ll never have. Drew grieves the normal teenage existence her abilities have made impossible. Hannah grieves her best friend while feeling guilty about continuing to live and find happiness. Bovalino shows how grief isn’t linear or simple, how it coexists with joy and hope and everyday concerns.
The romantic elements develop naturally alongside the supernatural plot rather than overwhelming it. Drew’s feelings for Hannah create complications and motivations, but the story never loses sight of Liam’s urgent situation or the larger themes about mortality and meaning.
Bovalino’s prose style serves the emotional weight of the story beautifully. She writes with enough restraint that the sad moments hit hard without feeling manipulative, and enough warmth that the hopeful moments feel earned rather than artificially imposed. The balance between darkness and light feels carefully calibrated throughout.
The juxtaposition of teenage life and death creates constant poignancy. Liam is frozen at the age where you’re just beginning to understand who you might become, robbed of the opportunity to actually become that person. Drew is trying to have normal teenage experiences while dealing with decidedly abnormal circumstances. The contrast between youth’s possibilities and death’s finality generates much of the story’s emotional power.
I, in the Shadows succeeds most impressively in refusing easy answers or simple resolutions. Characters don’t magically overcome their flaws, grief doesn’t disappear when spirits move on, and doing the right thing doesn’t always feel good. It’s the kind of realistic messiness that makes young adult fiction at its best so powerful.
For readers who like:
Fans of Cemetery Boys or The Lovely Bones, anyone who appreciated They Both Die at the End for its emotional depth, readers seeking ghost stories with genuine heart, and those who enjoy YA that doesn’t shy away from moral complexity.
Final Verdict
Tori Bovalino has crafted a ghost story that’s as much about living as it is about dying, a romance that acknowledges its own ethical complications, and a meditation on grief that still manages to find hope. I, in the Shadows demonstrates exactly what young adult fiction can achieve when it trusts its readers to handle emotional complexity and moral ambiguity. This is a book that will make you cry and smile, often within the same chapter, and leave you thinking about what it means to matter, to be remembered, and to find connection across impossible divides. Essential reading for anyone who believes YA can be both deeply sad and ultimately hopeful.
Grateful to NetGalley, Page Street YA, and Tori Bovalino for the opportunity to read an advance copy of this story in exchange for an honest review.