This was a total impulse buy—the cover and jacket copy caught my attention instantly. I had a feeling it might not deliver, especially after skimming a few reviews beforehand, but I took the plunge anyway.
Three generations of women live together in the so-called "blind house," named for its windowless front-facing wall. Twelve-year-old Valentina longs for a normal childhood, but normal isn’t in the cards—especially when, on the night of her first period, a crack in her bedroom wall begins to bleed. Their home is a magnet for bizarre phenomena: overrun by infestations of frogs, flies, and locusts. The neighbors whisper about witches, while Valentina’s grandmother insists it's the weight of an old family curse.
Either way, Valentina refuses to heed her grandmother’s pleas for prayer. Instead, she nurses a growing resentment toward her mother—trapped in a relationship where neither seems able to reach the other. Her solace comes in fleeting escapes: the steady presence of her best friend Ilaria, the tentative spark with Marco, and the few, stolen moments with her estranged father.
The Empire of Dirt spends most of its time on the shifting insecurities of adolescence and the complexities of familial bonds, while barely skimming the surface of the paranormal intrigue that made its synopsis so compelling.
It was fine, and I’m fine with that. If you’re more drawn to the coming-of-age elements than the eerie undertones, this might be exactly what you’re looking for.