Beautiful, disgusting writing. Barely a chapter went by when I wasn't highlighting some line about tucking her love for her serial-killer father "into the spaces behind her back teeth and between her knuckles". Even traditionally positive feelings are treated to the same body horroresque description as the evil in the Crowder house (and when it comes to the evil, Gailey does not hold back). These layers add up to a relentless, growing dread despite the book's small-town pace.

I am also on my feet cheering for women's wrongs. Vera is neither an angel nor a demon, but the moments when she flirts with the latter are delicious after seeing her endure pages and pages of bullshit. Even when her reactions are perhaps a little disproportionate. Good For Her vibes.

Just Like Home does suffer a little from feeling like the uneasy marriage of two books, however. One, haunted by her serial-killer father, and her need to defend the parts of herself that were shaped by his love, and a second about the monstrous love of her mother. The 'haunting' of the house does weave the two together, but I still would have rather read a book firmly focused on Vera and her father. Probably the same morbid curiosity that drives people to true crime content.

In terms of the will-they-won't-they supernatural element,

I adored the subversion of Vera embracing the House in its raw, hideous form. Still, I can't help feeling the haunting was stronger without the anthropomorphisation, especially since humanoid form seemed to confer no benefits. One massive complaint is that Vera needed to have let it into her mouth at the end! Seriously, it was right there - the ultimate embrace, the most disgusting option. Already seen it happen to mom. Open wide.