Marcus Kliewer
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Horror
Summary
Macy Mullins is twenty-two years old and already worn thin by responsibility. She’s scraping by, trying to keep herself and her younger sister afloat, and when a Craigslist ad promises good pay for just three days of caretaking, it feels almost too convenient. The house is quiet in that way, isolated homes often are. The kind of quiet that doesn’t relax you so much as press in on your ears. Grace Carnswel greets her politely enough, but something about the setup feels… off. Not dramatically so. Just slightly misaligned, like a picture frame hanging crooked on the wall.
What begins as a simple caretaking gig slowly tilts into something larger and stranger. Macy finds herself caught between skepticism and instinct. Is this a grieving man constructing meaning out of tragedy? Or is there, in fact, something ancient pushing at the edges of the property? By the time answers begin to surface, the story has widened beyond one household. The stakes feel less domestic and more existential, though the emotional core—loss, guilt, fear—never fully disappears.
Characters
Macy is easy to invest in. She isn’t written as a horror-hero archetype, charging into danger without a thought, nor is she paralyzed by fear. Her choices may make sense or not. You can see how financial pressure nudges her to stay longer than she probably should. Her protectiveness toward her sister adds weight to her decisions; she’s not just risking herself. That said, there are moments when her internal world seems to take a backseat to the mounting tension. I occasionally wanted to linger with her doubts a little longer, to sit inside her emotional conflict rather than rush toward the next revelation.
David, on the other hand, may be the book’s most compelling presence. His grief over his son Caleb hangs over everything. Whether the rites are acts of devotion or delusion remains frustratingly unclear, in a good way. He’s pitiable and unsettling at the same time, which isn’t easy to pull off. Grace and the supporting cast function well within the framework of the story, though they don’t quite break free of it. They feel purposeful rather than fully dimensional. That’s not necessarily a flaw, but it does keep the character work from reaching something deeper or more transformative.
Writing Style
Kliewer’s prose is clean and controlled, leaning heavily on atmosphere. Descriptions of the setting grow more vivid as the danger escalates, though the writing rarely calls attention to itself. Dialogue flows naturally. The pacing, especially in the first half, is tight. If anything, the restraint in the prose may contribute to the feeling that some emotional beats pass a bit too quickly. The chapters are fairly short, making the reading feel fast.
Final Thoughts
Having read and loved the author’s previous book, “We Used to Live Here," I’m giving this one three stars. The Caretaker sits comfortably in the “Just Okay” category. The premise is strong, and the opening chapters genuinely pulled me in. There’s an effective slow-burn quality that keeps you turning pages, even when very little is overtly happening.
Still, it doesn’t quite reach the depth it seems poised to achieve. The buildup is slow, and that’s okay, but it feels just too carefully layered, and the climax feels slightly compressed by comparison. A few character arcs might have benefited from more space to breathe. Even so, there are flashes here and there that might linger afterward. It’s unsettling in patches, maybe memorable in moments.
Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC of this book.
- Grief
- Guilt
- Isolation
- Responsibility
- Burden
- Trauma

No comments:
Post a Comment