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An NPR Best Book of the Year By the "master of thinly veiled secrets often kept by women who rage underneath their delicate exteriors" (Kirkus Reviews), Beware the Woman is Megan Abbott at the height of her game. Honey, I just want you to have everything you ever wanted. That’s what Jacy’s mom always told her. And Jacy felt like she finally did. Newly married and with a baby on the way, Jacy and her new husband, Jed, embark on their first road trip together to visit his father, Dr. Ash, in Michigan’s far-flung Upper Peninsula. The moment they arrive at the cottage snug within the lush woods, Jacy feels bathed in love by the warm and hospitable Dr. Ash, if less so by his house manager, the enigmatic Mrs. Brandt. But their Edenic first days take a turn when Jacy has a health scare. Swiftly, vacation activities are scrapped, and all eyes are on Jacy’s condition. Suddenly, whispers about Jed’s long-dead mother and complicated family history seem to eerily impinge upon the present, and Jacy begins to feel trapped in the cottage, her every move surveilled, her body under the looking glass. But are her fears founded or is it simply paranoia, or cabin fever, or—as is suggested to her—a stubborn refusal to take necessary precautions? The dense woods surrounding the cottage are full of dangers, but are the greater ones inside?
An NPR Best Book of the Year By the "master of thinly veiled secrets often kept by women who rage underneath their delicate exteriors" (Kirkus Reviews), Beware the Woman is Megan Abbott at the height of her game. Honey, I just want you to have everything you ever wanted. That’s what Jacy’s mom always told her. And Jacy felt like she finally did. Newly married and with a baby on the way, Jacy and her new husband, Jed, embark on their first road trip together to visit his father, Dr. Ash, in Michigan’s far-flung Upper Peninsula. The moment they arrive at the cottage snug within the lush woods, Jacy feels bathed in love by the warm and hospitable Dr. Ash, if less so by his house manager, the enigmatic Mrs. Brandt. But their Edenic first days take a turn when Jacy has a health scare. Swiftly, vacation activities are scrapped, and all eyes are on Jacy’s condition. Suddenly, whispers about Jed’s long-dead mother and complicated family history seem to eerily impinge upon the present, and Jacy begins to feel trapped in the cottage, her every move surveilled, her body under the looking glass. But are her fears founded or is it simply paranoia, or cabin fever, or—as is suggested to her—a stubborn refusal to take necessary precautions? The dense woods surrounding the cottage are full of dangers, but are the greater ones inside?
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En raison de restrictions imposées par l'éditeur, la bibliothèque n'est pas en mesure d'acheter des exemplaires supplémentaires de ce titre et nous vous présentons toutes nos excuses si la liste d'attente est longue. N'oubliez pas de regarder s'il existe d'autres exemplaires, car d'autres éditions sont peut-être disponibles.
Extraits-
From the cover
"We should go back," he said suddenly, shaking me out of sleep.
"What?" I whispered, huddled under the thin bedspread at the motor inn, the air conditioner stuck on hi. "What did you say?"
"We could turn around and go back."
"Go back?" I was trying to see his face in the narrow band of light through the stiff crackling curtains, the gap between every motel curtain ever. "We're only a few hours away."
"We could go back and just explain it wasn't a good time. Not with the baby coming."
His voice was funny, strained from the AC, the detergent haze of the room.
I propped myself up on my elbows, shaking off the bleary weirdness.
We had driven all day. In my head, in my chest, we were still driving, the road buzzing beneath us, my feet shaking, cramped, over the gas.
"But you wanted this," I said, reaching for him. "You said we should go before the baby comes."
He didn't say anything, his back to me, the great expanse of his back, my hand on his shoulder blade.
"Jed," I said. "What is it?"
"You're dreaming," he said, his voice lighter, changed. It was like a switch went off.
"What?" I said again, looking at the back of his head, lost in shadow.
"You were dreaming," he said. "Go back to sleep."
A strange feeling came over me. It hadn't been Jed at all. It had been some boogeyman shaking me awake, warning me to go back, go back.
Some boogeyman.
Like Captain Murderer, the smeary white man I used to dream about when I was little.
Captain Murderer.
Who? my mother used to ask me. Someone from one of your comic books, or a grown-up movie you snuck over to the Carnahans to see?
The Carnahans, with six kids from ages four to twenty-four, lived next door in a rambling house, and two of the Carnahan boys fed me warm beer in the basement once when I was ten, and another time I split my lip when one of the girls slammed a screen door on my face, and they loved to set off firecrackers in the driveway all summer long, once burning down the old sycamore everyone loved and it changed the light in our house forever.
But no, Captain Murderer didn't come from the Carnahans' big console TV, videogame cords dangling like spider legs. He didn't come from my comic books or the slumber party stories swapped in our sleeping bags.
He didn't come from anywhere at all. He was always already there.
But who is he? my mother kept asking, unease creeping into her voice.
Captain Murderer, I kept repeating because I assumed she knew him, too, deep down. Like the tooth fairy, the devil with his pitchfork and his flaming tail, like on the can label in the cupboard. Captain Murderer!
My mother, face drawn together in worry, would stop what she was doing, folding laundry or wiping glasses in the drying rack, and make me start at the beginning.
And I'd tell her how he was all white, white as milk, head to toe, with white nails and white lashes, teeth like little bones, and one red spot in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades.
How he moved like bedsheets snapping. How he bit you and his teeth popped out, leaving you with little bones under your skin that everyone would say was a mosquito bite, a fire ant, chiggers.
But where did he come from? my mother would plead. Was it a story someone told you at camp? Where did he come from?
Later those nights, after she thought I'd fallen back to sleep, I would hear her moving from room to room, checking all the locks on every window and door.
Click-click, click-click, bolt.
I would hear her breathing...
Critiques-
Starred review from March 6, 2023 In this spine-tingling suspense yarn from Edgar Award winner Abbott (The Turnout), pregnant second grade teacher Jacy learns there’s plenty she still doesn’t know about her taciturn artist husband Jed or the family he rarely mentions—maybe a dangerous amount. The action unfolds during the couple’s summer road trip from New York City to visit Jed’s father, a retired physician, at his cottage on Michigan’s remote Upper Peninsula. At first, Jacy feels transported by the surroundings and her father-in-law’s near-courtly solicitousness. (His brusque caretaker, Mrs. Brandt, is a different story.) But things shift when Jacy has a miscarriage scare and, in the aftermath, Jed aligns with his father’s alarmingly old-school notions about women and pregnancy. Rightly or wrongly, Jacy starts to feel like a prisoner. Manipulating the sense of menace like a virtuoso violinist, Abbott expertly foreshadows the wrenching family secrets that are exposed in a ferocious finale. Sinewy prose and note-perfect pacing make this a masterful and provocative deep dive into desire, love, and gender politics. Readers will be left breathless. Agent: Dan Conaway, Writers House.
Jacy has the picture-perfect life her mother always wanted for her. She's newly married to a handsome man, has a baby on the way, and is traveling with her husband, Jed, to visit her father-in-law on Michigan's remote Upper Peninsula. At first, the visit is idyllic, but then Jacy has an accident, and things take a turn for the worst. Confined in the house, Jacy begins to feel suffocated by stories of Jed's dead mother and the weight of complicated family dynamics. With dangers all around, Jacy doesn't know if her fears are in her mind or if something truly sinister is happening. Abbott's (The Turnout) latest is a novel of feminist horror, relaying the stifling story of a woman who has lost her freedom. Brittany Pressley offers a pitch-perfect narration of Jacy, bringing out her optimism as a mom-to-be and her creeping horror as she loses her agency. She also provides distinct and effective characterizations for secondary characters. VERDICT A great fit for fans of psychological horror with social commentary, as it touches on autonomy and reproductive rights.--Elyssa Everling
Copyright 2024 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
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Brittany Pressley captures a young woman's fear as her world closes in on her. Newly married Jacy and Jed are traveling to meet his parents. On arrival, the parents are excited to learn of Jacy's pregnancy. But soon things start to feel off. Jed's father, Dr. Ash, starts to take an uneasy interest in Jacy's pregnancy. Jacy struggles to maintain control of her medical history, while Jed appears too willing to excuse his father's increasingly controlling behavior. Pressley's voice provides the perfect mix of mounting terror and rage. She creates a progressively suffocating environment that makes for a diabolical character and a very satisfying listening experience. S.P.C. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2023, Portland, Maine
