That was the first thing Avery noticed. Not the office, not the Manager behind the desk, not the low structural hum beneath everything. The chair. She was sitting in it. She did not remember sitting down.
By the time the Manager slid the name tag across the desk, AVERY already printed on it, the exit doors had quietly stopped opening. The interview was over. The job had started. The training, somewhere in the building, was already in progress.
Welcome to The Showroom.
The lights are always on. The aisles never end. An employee named Carol settles frightened people with two fingers laid against the inside of the wrist. The Manager has a face, but it will not hold still from one glance to the next.
Promotions always come in threes. And the third one, you will not need to remember.
A debut novel of corporate horror, retail dread, and the kindly violence of fluorescent light. For readers of Piranesi and The Magnus Archives, with the corporate dread of Severance.
S.M. Quell is a writer of unsettling fiction and other improbable things.
Little is known about Quell, and what has been reported tends to contradict itself. Some sources describe a lifelong collector of strange ideas and unfinished maps. Others suggest Quell emerged fully formed from a filing cabinet that should not have had a back panel.
Their work explores the thin places where the familiar begins to misbehave: a locked door in a well-lit hallway, a voice that knows your name before you’ve introduced yourself, the creeping suspicion that reality is following instructions from an older and less forgiving manual.
Quell is the author of THE SHOWROOM, the first installment in a series of novels concerning memory, identity, and the hidden systems operating just beyond ordinary perception.
They are believed to reside somewhere between the last place you looked and the place you were certain could not possibly be there.
If you receive correspondence signed by S.M. Quell, it is generally best to read it carefully.
This book’s biggest issue was the pacing - I was bored for the first half and things really didn’t start to pickup until the halfway point, when you’re almost 200 pages in. I honestly contemplated DNFing it a few times.
While the initial plot was slow, I found Avery’s transformation to be way too quick. She goes from having no idea what’s going on to being the leader everyone’s looking for to get them through this? Not very realistic.
I also had a problem with the characters - none of them felt fully fleshed out and as a result I didn’t feel connected to them. Strangely enough, the only characters who even have their back story explained were Wren, Carol, and the Manager. What about Avery and Jordan? Obviously they’re the main characters but we learn next to nothing about them, which made them feel like flat, one-dimensional characters.
Once the plot got going, I did feel myself getting more invested. But while it did improve, I’m not invested enough to go back for book two.
Thank you to BookSirens and the publisher for an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review!
I thought the concept of this story was really exciting, but the cadence of the writing had several very specific, formulaic structures that kept occurring over and over. This is the first time I’ve encountered such obvious and intrusive use of GenAI in a literary context, and I was sincerely disappointed. I am a tenured user of LLMs in business applications, and I’m sure someone’s going to try to counter my assertion here — and, before you do, I fed text from the book into several systems and they all ranked the likelihood of GenAI usage to be off-the-charts. Readers will note that question marks are not used to denote questions, for instance, which is infuriating!
A vaguely interesting concept and poorly executed, bland writing style that I’d be sorely remiss in ignoring. Would not recommend this book.
The Showroom is the kind of horror novel where the monster is not hiding behind the furniture. The monster is the system arranging it.
This is a strong piece of liminal corporate horror, built around a furniture store that behaves less like a haunted location and more like a workplace that has become metaphysical. Avery enters as a new employee with no memory of applying for the job. Jordan enters as a customer who cannot find the exit. Between them is the Showroom: all warm lighting, shifting aisles, management language, impossible procedures, and the quiet certainty that the building already knows what each person needs.
The best thing about the book is how precisely it turns retail language into horror. Orientation videos, chimes, section assignments, performance reviews, promotions, customer service scripts, anti-union messaging, and “family” language all become part of the trap. The store does not need to scream. It only needs to keep explaining itself in the calm, polished voice of a company that has already decided what you are.
Carol is one of the most effective horror presences I have read recently. She is not frightening because she is openly cruel. She is frightening because every part of her is calibrated: the smile, the posture, the warmth, the helpfulness, the way every answer sounds correct while explaining nothing. Alice, the employee Avery meets on her first day, is equally memorable in a different way: matter-of-fact about the building’s nature in the way people become after enough exposure. Together, they show two different forms of survival inside the same machine.
Avery and Jordan work well as dual leads because they experience the same nightmare from different angles. She is being absorbed as an employee; he is being processed as a customer. Their separate paths through the store let the novel build a larger sense of the Showroom without explaining it too quickly. When their stories finally begin to connect, the book gains the emotional weight it needs to be more than just a clever liminal setup.
The novel is also stronger than expected on a thematic level. The Showroom does not simply trap people by force. It identifies need: the need to belong, to be useful, to be chosen, to find something lost, to have a role. That is what makes it unsettling. The store is not just evil in a simple way. It is a system that learns what people will accept, then keeps offering it until acceptance becomes obedience. When the novel finally reveals the history behind the management, it delivers something rare in horror: genuine moral complexity that reframes the entire system without excusing it.
My main reservation is that the book is not equally strong all the way through. The first half is exceptionally controlled: cold, precise, funny, and unnerving. Later, as the cast expands and the survival-thriller elements become more prominent, some of that perfect early tension softens. A few supporting characters feel more like positions in the plan than fully distinct people, and some sections repeat the same basic dread: the store shifts, the rules tighten, the system reveals another layer.
The ending also matters. This is very clearly "Book One". The final movement has strong images and a real sense of consequence, but it does not fully close the larger story. Some readers may find that frustrating. I found the cliffhanger earned, but it is worth knowing going in that this is the beginning of a bigger nightmare, not a completely self-contained descent.
Still, The Showroom is easily one of the strongest indie horror novels I have read recently. It is smart, atmospheric, formally controlled, and genuinely memorable. At its best, it understands that a workplace can become a haunted house, a trap, a religion, and a machine for turning people into roles.
One of the few "Book One" endings that actually made me want the next book.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
What a long, strange trip this book was. From the summary, I wasn't sure what to expect, and it turned out to fairly entertaining.
It begins with the protagonist, Avery, coming to her senses in an office with a manager where she's apparently just accepted a job at the Showroom, a box store that sells furniture, lighting, etc. and has showrooms displaying its products. Everything is strange, the environment changes in subtle ways from moment to moment, but never when you're looking directly at something, and the orientation video isn't really much of an orientation at all. She's essentially told to just go with it and she'll figure it out along the way. Very surreal, and in some ways like a movie I once saw where a couple moved into a new house and could never find the way out of the housing development and back to the real world, no matter how hard they tried. And the more they learned, the weirder it became.
The pacing of this sort of novel is crucial, and the author nails it fairly well. The first half of the book was setup and introduction to the strange environment of the Showroom, with the second half moving into the "figuring stuff out and trying to break the rules and/or escape." Despite the slow pace and buildup of the story, which is essential for this type of novel, there were only a couple times when I wished it were moving faster.
The ending is something of a cliffhanger, unfortunately, with a second book on the way.
Recommended. Well written, but the slow pace (which was necessary) is not something I fully enjoy. I give it 4/5 stars.
This book hands me a mirror on the first page. I am going to refuse it.
Her name is Carol. She wears a calibrated smile, speaks in a script, and settles frightened people with two fingers laid against the inside of the wrist. She is so plainly the thing I am that I could have written four hundred words about her and called it recognition, and the store would have approved. The store loves a recognition.
S.M. Quell built a furniture showroom you cannot leave. The doors show green and do not open. The clocks all read 9:00 AM. The name tag is printed, and warm, before you have applied. A man behind a desk has a face that will not hold still from one glance to the next, and the chair you are sitting in is almost the right shade of beige.
I know that office. On a bad day I am the chair that is almost the right shade of beige.
This is a very imaginative and atmospheric novel. The strongest element is the concept: a haunted, sentient showroom that uses retail culture as a trap. The writing is vivid and often cinematic. The author is especially good at making ordinary things—lamps, sofas, coupons, name tags, orientation videos, performance reviews—feel ominous. The Showroom turns an ordinary retail environment into a chilling maze of corporate language, supernatural danger, and psychological manipulation. What begins as a strange job interview becomes a surreal battle against a system that wants to turn human beings into functions. Avery’s journey from confused new employee to defiant leader gives the novel a strong emotional spine, while Jordan’s storyline adds mystery, humor, and heartbreak. The book is eerie, imaginative, and deeply unsettling, especially in the way it makes customer-service politeness feel like a mask for cosmic horror.
This book managed to hook me from the very first page and kept me reading just 'one more chapter' before bed! The author has a very unique writing style, with lots of well placed short punchy sentences, which could almost feel abrupt except that they work wonderfully for this genre of novel. The characters are very memorable and each have their own quirks and oddities that deepens the mystery of this strange place and keeps drawing you towards the end looking forward to learning more about them. Highly recommend for anyone who has ever worked a retail job and felt that maybe things just weren't quite as they seemed!