Genre: Domestic Thriller / Supernatural Horror
Mood: Emotionally raw, slow-burning, unsettling
Pacing: Steady unraveling with creeping dread
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (4/5)
Trigger Warnings: Death of a child (off-page), divorce, emotional neglect, child trauma, gaslighting, mild psychological horror.
If grief were a haunted house, Split would be the floor plan.
Sarah McKnight serves us a deceptively quiet domestic thriller soaked in heartache, hot coffee, and just enough dread to make you hesitate before entering the basement. What starts as a woman’s desperate attempt to rebuild her life post-cheating-husband spirals into something that feels like the lovechild of The Babadook and a Lifetime original movie—if Lifetime had the guts to let things get genuinely creepy.
Holly Doyle isn’t just moving house—she’s moving into the emotional aftershocks of divorce, custody weekends, and trying not to scream when the house makes that sound again. Her son Quinn is mute, her daughter is moody, and her landlord has major “don’t open the cellar” energy. The story tiptoes between tragic realism and quiet horror, and it does so with surgical precision.
McKnight’s strength lies in character nuance. You’ll want to shake Holly and hug her in the same breath. And Quinn? That kid is a walking goosebump machine. The supernatural elements are subtle—no jump scares here—just dread layered like insulation behind every wall. The pacing is slow, but deliberately so, giving readers time to sit with the ache… until things start peeling back and nothing feels safe anymore.
This book isn’t sexy, but it is deeply emotional and twisted in its own quiet way. Like a divorcee’s fever dream.
Final Thoughts:
Split doesn’t rely on loud horror tropes. It sneaks up on you with shadows, whispers, and the kind of maternal guilt that could kill a lesser woman—or invite something worse. If you like your scares with a side of emotional devastation and empowerment… unpack your boxes. Welcome home.