RAW. DEVASTATING. RECLAIMING. 🩶 Three Days in the Pink Tower is a speculative autofiction horror novella that follows a teenage girl who is kidnapped and held over the course of three days; but from the very beginning it’s clear that this is something much more personal—E.V. Knight is writing from her own lived experience, and there’s a closeness to this story that makes it feel like something you’re being trusted with rather than something you’re simply reading.
I don’t even really know where to start when it comes to explaining the experience of reading this book.
I definitely knew what I was walking into. I had read the description, and I had seen a couple of reviews on review platforms with some very earnest reminders for people to really check in on the trigger warnings before jumping into this one, because it is very dark. I think, for me, walking into it, I’m not entirely sure what draws me to seek out dark books outside of my own trauma. I do think maybe it is directly tied to that, and that I’m searching for my own catharsis, but I’m not exactly sure how to reach it. In picking up this book, that was definitely part of why I was so drawn to it, and I absolutely expected that I might have some intense reactions to the content within it.
And I did.
It feels really strange to sit here and talk about a book that is so personal. I think this is one of the first times that I have knowingly read speculative autofiction. Of course, I get the feeling sometimes when reading other books that there are personal stories inspiring them, and that authors are sometimes telling their own stories through their characters, but this is one where it is very blatant from the beginning. When you read the author’s note, there is no real distance. This is an author taking back a narrative. This is an author reclaiming power. This is an author navigating their way through the darkest moments of their life for all to see.
This is a deeply personal book, and because of that, I do partially struggle with trying to judge it in any way other than simply feeling grateful that I had the opportunity to read it.
I want to say a few things about the book itself before I dive into some of the other things I want to talk about in regard to reading a book like this, so this is really not going to be a typical review. If you’re along for the ride for that, I appreciate you reading my meandering thoughts.
The writing in this book is visceral. It is told so well through the eyes of someone so young. You are really in the experience with her. You are in the uncertainty, in the moments of confusion, in the innocence and curiosity and lack of understanding. You are in that level of situational awareness that belongs to someone who still trusts people, for the most part, at that stage in life. I think there is something incredibly effective about the way the book places you back into that headspace, into that age, into that particular vulnerability, and I think it is incredibly well written in that regard.
The rest of the book is, again, very hard for me to judge in a traditional sense because it feels so personal. It feels less like reading a work of fiction and more like being handed a story directly from a real person, almost like reading a letter. I think the writing in this book is stunning. I think the way the author incorporates tarot cards in order to regain some level of control over her story is beautiful and touching and relatable in a lot of ways. I think she invites us into the parts of her mind that got her to where she is today, and some of those parts are extremely dark, but they all come from a place of survival. Being invited into this feels sacred.
I think one of the most important things I want people to understand before going into this book is that this is not just a fictional trauma-processing book. This is a form of narrative that helps someone take back control and agency. It belongs to a long-standing tradition of survivor storytelling in literature and horror. The intensity of this book, I think, can be seen as excess for a lot of people, but that is really the point. It is a refusal to sanitize. A refusal to make trauma palatable. An insistence that the reader sit with discomfort rather than look away.
I think a lot of people come to books like this maybe unprepared for what they are going to experience, and they spend more time thinking about how the book is making them feel than what the book is actually trying to do. That is, of course, completely natural, because we all have our own things that we are dealing with, and our reactions are valid. But I guess the reason I’m sharing this is because I do want people to have that insight before walking into it. Because this book is deeply intentional and deeply meaningful, it can also be too much for some readers. It can be too uncomfortable. It can push someone into centering their own reaction so fully that they lose sight of the writer’s lived experience at the center of it, and that reaction can strip away the framework of the author’s intent.
That is just something I think is worth being mindful of when walking into this book. If you do not feel able to enter that headspace while reading it, I genuinely would recommend not picking it up. However, again, it is completely valid to feel that way.
For me, though, this is a book where the intensity holds so much purpose that it becomes almost overwhelming. This author is a survivor, so the stakes are shifted. There is a difference between depicting violence for shock or titillation and depicting violence as a lived reality processed through art. This book is incredibly powerful. It stands on its own feet and refuses to reinforce the idea that trauma should only be told in acceptable or softened ways.
This is my first time reading an author who truly does not make their experiences easier to consume, and it meant a lot to me to read, to experience, and to relate to. It inspired me in ways I did not expect. It hurt me in others, by awakening my own wounds. But most of all, the power behind someone taking control of something that was taken from them is the most important part of this entire story, and it hit me deep within my soul, while also making me feel profoundly sad.
This was incredibly difficult to read, and I don’t think it is something I will ever reread. But I will never forget it, and I am thankful for what it shifted within me.
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original placeholder review 3/28/26:
This was extremely heavy. I knew what it was walking into it, and I knew the impact it would likely have on me, and I was right in my guess. I'm glad that I read it. I'm going to sit with it for a little while.