Resin was superb, again with an authentic child’s voice, in a claustrophobic tale of the lengths one man will go to in order to protect his family. With its fairytale quality, this was creepy and macabre in equal measure, and with its encroaching forest setting, the landscape used seemed to perfectly mirror the dark tale that unfolds.

After reading this book in a single, gut wrenching sitting, I was left breathless, a little freaked out and wondering what the hell I'd just read. This brief but affecting story is grim, creepy, tense, disturbing, stomach churning - all that good stuff! The quality of the writing is sublime, the story telling flawless. The characters are awful - in the best way! - and it is testament to the author's talent that the monstrous acts of Jens don't stop the reader understanding him as a loving and loved human being that is merely reacting in a fully understandable manner to the awful things that have happened to him. Liv is a fascinating character - is she just an innocent bystander? Is she genetically predisposed to being a murderous weirdo?! It's all so horrible...and so good! The nasty little twist at the end is a treat too. But on a serious note, it does explore the effects that loss and grief can have on the mental health of vulnerable individuals and there are moments of poignancy that are extremely affecting. Overall, this is a hugely thought provoking and entertaining book.

I thought Ane Riel- Resin was superb, again with an authentic child’s voice, in a claustrophobic tale of the lengths one man will go to in order to protect his family. With its fairytale quality, this was creepy and macabre in equal measure, and with its encroaching forest setting, the landscape used seemed to perfectly mirror the dark tale that unfolds.

I found this title really fresh and compelling and really struggled to put it down. Thoroughly heart breaking at times it must be said. Liv is such a little trooper I found I kept going through the grimmer parts of the book just for the hope of her escape. You know when you wonder how those stories on the news could possibly happen? Here's a detailed description of a fictional gradual descent.

The first sentence of this book actually gives a glimpse into how dark and disturbing Resin actually is, it’s definitely not one for the faint hearted as it’s deals with some rather uncomfortable and horrifying subjects, but in the author’s defence there are only a few vivid scenes and the rest is left to the reader’s imagination. Translated from Danish, Ane Riel’s novel is traumatic, emotional and deeply disturbing but on the plus side it’s beautifully written, rich in atmosphere and at times bone chilling creepy

Full review will be added once I’ve shared to my blog

A Wee Summary
Resin is one of those novels that it’s hard to say that you ‘enjoyed’ because it makes you feel so on edge, so deeply uncomfortable. So perhaps I can say that this is an unsettling but good read.

Liv is six years old when her father reports her missing and dead. She lives isolated on an island with her mother and father, hidden from the world. Her father, Jens Horder, was brought up here too, on the Head, a small island attached to a larger one by a strip of land known as the Neck.

Her Grandfather had been a carpenter and instilled a love of trees and nature into his younger son. Liv never met her Grandfather but she had gleaned a similar interest from her father.

Nowadays, the house doesn’t look as it did in her Grandfather’s day – there is stuff everywhere. Her Dad hoards things, convinced that they will be of use, scared that anyone will try to take them away from him. That’s why he told the police that Liv was dead, then no-one could take her.

As I read and uncovered the history of the Horder family, I became increasingly unsettled, and yet unable to stop reading.

My Thoughts
While this book is dark and disturbing, it also captures the emotional relationship between parent and child. Liv’s innocence of youth and her sheltered life add to this, providing quite a contrast from the constant foreboding feeling I had as I read.

It is also a very atmospheric novel. Riel has captured this island location beautifully, with the feel of isolation further compounding the story.

I’m finding Resin a very difficult book to describe without giving away any spoilers. I should give you a warning though that this book contains animal cruelty and infant death. Consequently, it won’t be a book for everyone.

What I can say is that this is a disturbing, but memorable read that will keep you on edge from the first page until the very last.

Translated from the Danish, Ane Riel’s novel is a deeply disturbing, yet hypnotically engaging, story of family, of loss and of preserving memories. It would be unkind to give away any of the twists and turns of the plot, but the basic premise is this: Jens and Maria live on a tiny peninsula, keeping themselves apart from the rest of the world. Their daughter Liv dies when she is six years old; at least that’s what they tell the authorities, to stop the possibility of her being taken away. In ever increasing horror we witness the events unfold, mostly through the child’s viewpoint but also through the letters of the mother, so obese she is confined to her bed and having lost the ability to talk. It is only when the pub landlord Roald, having become suspicious and wondering who the child is, wanders onto the headland that we see though his eyes the true nightmare of the state of the cottage and its land. What unfolds then hurtles the book towards its end.

This is an unsettling, bruising book. I found myself at times almost reading through my fingers as the story moves towards its climax. And right up to the last sentence the book keeps its surprises coming. The metaphor of the resin tapped from the trees by Jens and his daughter becomes one of how we preserve memories, how we can literally capture time – in the same way that an old hourglass is stored horizontally so that time is stopped. I was reminded of two books as I was reading this: ‘Room’, with its focus on how we see a confined space through the eyes of a child; and ‘The Wasp Factory’, with its androgynous central character and troubling violence.

I suspect this book will live with me for a while – some scenes are genuinely disquieting. But it is gripping, and I cared about the characters. Liv’s mother writes in one of her letters: ‘I don’t know whether to call our life a fairy tale or a horror story. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. I hope that you can see the fairy tale.’ A really wonderful book.

(With thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC of this book.)

The best final sentence to a novel I've ever read. This book a surprising mixture of tense family thriller and quaint Scandinavia isolated community life plus a dash of naive child narrator. Love it.