Amalia Gkavea
Strange House by Uketsu opens with a compelling setup: a writer interested in the occult is invited by a friend—an architect named Kurihara—to investigate a strangely constructed home in Tokyo. The house is full of oddities: dead space, unnerving layouts, and a past that refuses to stay buried. As they explore its design and history, they encounter unsettling documents, cryptic floorplans, and a widow whose story deepens the mystery.
The novel’s strength lies in its atmosphere. The writing is eerie and disorienting by design, and the shifting timelines and layered perspectives create a sense of constant unease. It kept my interest throughout, especially during my long commutes—there’s something deeply engaging about the way the story slowly reveals itself, piece by piece.
Where it fell short for me was in the resolution. While the buildup is intriguing and the premise original, some of the final turns didn’t deliver the impact I was hoping for. The novel leans heavily into ambiguity, and though that will appeal to some readers, I found certain plot threads less satisfying than expected.
Still, Strange House is a distinctive and original work of psychological horror. Readers who appreciate open-ended narratives, experimental structure, and stories that blur the line between memory and reality will likely find it rewarding.
Many thanks to Pushkin Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Strange House by Uketsu opens with a compelling setup: a writer interested in the occult is invited by a friend—an architect named Kurihara—to investigate a strangely constructed home in Tokyo. The house is full of oddities: dead space, unnerving layouts, and a past that refuses to stay buried. As they explore its design and history, they encounter unsettling documents, cryptic floorplans, and a widow whose story deepens the mystery.
The novel’s strength lies in its atmosphere. The writing is eerie and disorienting by design, and the shifting timelines and layered perspectives create a sense of constant unease. It kept my interest throughout, especially during my long commutes—there’s something deeply engaging about the way the story slowly reveals itself, piece by piece.
Where it fell short for me was in the resolution. While the buildup is intriguing and the premise original, some of the final turns didn’t deliver the impact I was hoping for. The novel leans heavily into ambiguity, and though that will appeal to some readers, I found certain plot threads less satisfying than expected.
Still, Strange House is a distinctive and original work of psychological horror. Readers who appreciate open-ended narratives, experimental structure, and stories that blur the line between memory and reality will likely find it rewarding.
Many thanks to Pushkin Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.