Sin Eater is that book that sits you down, takes root in you, and then starts to echo when you're not looking. Amanda’s novel is one of those books. It’s tender, haunting, and quietly powerful. The kind of story that leaves you wide-eyed at midnight, not because it scared you, but because it said something deep and difficult that you didn’t expect.
Jayde isn’t a typical main character. She’s not out here saving the world or chasing fame. She’s doing something much more intimate and heartbreaking. Jayde has a strange gift: she can erase people’s memories. Painful memories, secrets, traumas - she takes them, burns them, and with that fire, the memory is gone… at least for the person who asked her to remove it.
But Jayde doesn’t forget. She carries every memory she’s erased. All the guilt, all the stories, all the buried grief - inside her. And that weight is what slowly unravels this quiet, beautifully told story.
When Jayde returns to her hometown of Palmsville, she’s not just dealing with clients - she’s facing her own past. And buried in that past is her oldest friend, Jenny, whose memories Jayde once erased. That’s the one memory she wishes she hadn’t touched.
You feel Jayde’s loneliness. Her guilt. Her longing to be seen. And it’s all wrapped in this eerie, almost mythic atmosphere that blends memory, folklore, and the messiness of human emotion.
There’s a recurring use of fire in the book that I found especially striking. Fire is how the memories are erased, and yet, fire becomes a metaphor for how trauma transforms people. In reality, it burns you, changes you, leaves marks.
Who are we without our memories? This is one of the central questions the book asks. Jayde’s clients forget parts of themselves to survive, but in doing so, they lose important pieces of their identity. Amanda forces us to consider whether forgetting truly brings healing - or just numbness.
One of the most touching parts of the book is Jayde’s memories of Jenny falling in love with a girl named Laurie. What starts as teenage excitement quickly turns into heartbreak and rejection, especially from Jenny’s mother. Amanda writes this with tenderness and honesty - it doesn’t feel preachy, it just feels real.
Sin-Eater is a rare kind of story. It’s not trying to impress you. It’s just trying to tell the truth - about pain, about memory, about wanting to be seen. Amanda has crafted something thoughtful, emotional, and deeply human.
To Amanda Denham: thank you, for showing that healing is messy. That forgetting isn’t always the answer. And that even people who seem invisible are carrying entire worlds inside them.