This book is described as “a modern Giallo”, an “homage to the stylish Italian mystery thrillers”, but its direct inspiration is clearly Dario Argento's Suspiria, a movie about a young American student who enrolls in a prestigious dance academy in Berlin plagued by a series of dark events. Here, a young American student (Eve) enrolls in a prestigious music conservatory in Belgium plagued by a series of equally dark events. Whereas the original film (and its sequel) do a masterful job of conveying a sense of dread through its surreal setting and quirky characters, forcing our all-American heroine to negotiate a foreign, at times eerie landscape, this novel proves atmospherically challenged. There’s nothing particularly unsettling about the new world protagonist Eve encounters. The setting and her fellow students are so unremarkable that the story could have taken place anywhere in North America.
This casual tone is also reflected in the attitude of the characters who, in the face of a mounting body count, go on about their lives as if the bloody events are nothing more than curious developments rather than anything to be alarmed about. On her first day at the conservatory, Eve is informed that a student was murdered there the night before. But there’s no heavy police presence. The school is not shut down. No one is struggling with the emotional baggage of having to come to terms with the death of someone they knew. Instead, everyone is fairly nonchalant, discussing the murder as if it were the equivalent of a juicy piece of high school gossip. At first, I thought this was a hint that something was very wrong with these students, a red flag signaling some macabre conspiracy, but when Eve didn’t clock this as strange in any way, I began to have my doubts - which were cemented when, in a later scene, Eve and her new friends go to a cafe where they are welcomed by the barista. It’s been a while since he’s seen them. He greets them warmly, is introduced to their new member Eve…but there is no mention of the girl who died the night before. Surely, he would have known her too. And surely he must have heard about her death. Yet she isn’t even mentioned. Apparently, it just wasn’t a big deal.
These characters don’t act like real people. Throughout the book, these young women think nothing of walking through the dark environs of the conservatory, alone in the dead of night, despite the recent murders. And they pay the ultimate price, getting killed in grisly, over-the-top, often silly fashion complete with arch commentary on the part of the killer. Things reach a crescendo of nonsense late in the novel when a trio of characters, trapped in the building with a killer on the loose, elect to split up and search for a missing friend rather than get the hell out and contact the police.
This book would have worked better as a parody. In its present form, it reads like a half-heated tribute to a much more accomplished original.