Book Review: They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran
As soon as I stumbled upon They Bloom at Night, I was captivated not just by its striking cover but by the promise of a queer YA horror set against the unique backdrop of a small Southern town. I was intrigued by the blend of culture, folklore, and spine-tingling horror woven into the narrative. Unfortunately, despite these promising elements, I found myself grappling with mixed feelings as I turned each page.
The story follows Nhung, affectionately called Noon, and her grieving mother as they navigate life in Mercy, Mississippi, post-hurricane. A sense of dread looms—a creature linked to a mysterious algae infestation threatens their community. Alongside them is Covey, the bookish daughter of the local power broker, who serves as both a friend and a wildcard in their quest to uncover the truth.
On the surface, this premise was bursting with potential. I adored how Trang Thanh Tran infused Vietnamese folklore into the tale, particularly the creature Sông, which speaks to family dynamics and cultural identity. I found myself quickly diving into a rabbit hole of research to understand the folklore surrounding it; the creation myth of Lac Long Quân and Âu Co provided a rich backdrop that could have deepened the story. Yet, it felt strangely left unacknowledged in the text, and the layers of meaning it carried lingered just outside reach.
While I appreciated Noon’s journey and transformation, I couldn’t fully connect with her—or the other characters—on a deeper level. The pacing dragged, which often left me bored or waiting for something significant to happen. I was hopeful that the story would shift gears, but too often I found myself lost in disjointed scenes where characters appeared then faded as if they were mere specters of the narrative.
The writing style had its poetic moments, but they felt misplaced amidst the narrative’s sluggish flow. Some characters, particularly the teenagers examining scientific theories, came off as unrealistic. It was hard to reconcile their intellectual leaps with their age and background, which further distanced me from them.
There were genuine attempts to tackle complex issues like grooming and sexual assault, and while they were treated with sensitivity, the lack of a content warning felt like a missed opportunity for the reader. This book doesn’t shy away from difficult topics, but it might catch some readers off guard.
Finally, the ending, while containing a significant moment of personal transformation for Noon, didn’t resonate as it should have. I expected more emotional stakes, but by that point, I found myself ambivalent toward the fate of the characters and their world.
For readers who enjoy a blend of horror and cultural elements, They Bloom at Night may still be worth exploring. While it didn’t entirely resonate with me, the allure of queer representation and a unique take on folklore could attract many. Ultimately, I wish I had felt more invested in the journey, as the story held so much promise.
As I close the book, I find myself reflecting on its beautiful cover—a stark reminder of the story’s potential. Though it didn’t fully bloom for me, I hope others may still find joy in this haunting dance of horror and identity, perhaps awakening something beautiful in their own reading experience.
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