Review of Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil by V.E. Schwab
From the moment I stumbled upon V.E. Schwab’s Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil, I was transfixed by its haunting promise: “Where Rot and Roses Coexist.” It called to that shadowy part of me that adores the gothic—crumbling estates, whispered secrets, and the tragic beauty of stories steeped in darkness. Schwab, known for her ability to weave complex narratives, does not disappoint. I was drawn into a world that thrives on dual timelines, monstrous love, and the lingering echoes of the past.
At its core, this novel is a meditation on hunger—hunger for love, autonomy, and a life unshackled by the limitations placed upon women. Schwab cleverly uses the vampire myth not just as a metaphor for survival, but as an exploration of the cost of desire in a world that frequently seeks to suppress it. María, our restless girl turned monster, is a vivid character who wrestles with the turmoil of her identity as both a lover and a predator. Then there’s Charlotte, whose longing for freedom leads her into a toxic bond with Sabine, a figure of both safety and danger. Their stories, intertwined across centuries, resonate deeply, emphasizing how the desires we chase can shape our destinies in irrevocable ways.
Schwab’s prose is a beautiful paradox; her writing feels unearthed rather than carefully constructed—each page drips with a lyrical quality that captures both rot and elegance. At times, this lushness can feel overwhelming, as if the narrative is more concerned with its own beautiful decay than with propelling the story forward. A lovely metaphor can become a heavy chain, tethering the reader in repetition rather than revelation.
The atmosphere? Absolutely gothic. Think atmospheric hues of rust and roses blended with the palpable tension of buried secrets. It’s all very Gothic Lolita meets Crimson Peak, but at moments, it felt more like it was performing the gothic aesthetic rather than embodying it. I craved more outright ferocity in a narrative that often tiptoed around its own potential. Yet, the mesmerizing moments of reflection also leave a lingering ache—Schwab captures something intimate and raw about grief through her characters, especially as Alice grapples with her sister’s death and her own transformation.
The dual timelines crafted around María and Alice echo beautifully through the narrative, creating a haunting connection that draws out generations of suffering and survival. The promises made and broken resonate deeply, turning love into a form of bondage—a concept that both chilled and captivated me. For example, Charlotte’s vow to avoid hurting Sabine becomes a curse, a reminder of the complexities of commitment that can transform love into something almost monstrous.
However, this isn’t a straightforward love story; it’s an exploration of curses, decay, and the burden of choices too often made by women who find their power only to have it turn against them. The pacing occasionally felt drawn out, resembling a ballad that lingers too long on the melody without moving forward, which made me yearn for a more dynamic climax.
Ultimately, Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil is a novel that leaves you with more questions than answers—a requiem for the lost and a celebration of defiance. It lingers in your mind like a forbidden love, sweet yet tainted. I recommend it to those who enjoy intricate explorations of female rage, myth, and identity and who aren’t afraid to be bruised by a narrative that bites deep.
Whether you come for the gothic allure or stay for the haunting character arcs, Schwab will ensure that even as you walk away, you carry a little of that rot and passion with you.
Discover more about Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil on GoodReads >>