“We are only as blind as we want to be”
--Maya Angelou
The lies we tell ourselves because the truth is too painful to bear. There exists the heart of Catherine Burns’ magnificent debut novel, The Visitors. All those tiny deceptions we use to make ourselves feel better. To justify our actions. Excuse the actions of others. Assuage guilt. DENY, DENY, DENY. But what happens when there’s nowhere left to run? When reality is force-fed and you confront something too horrific to accept?
Marion Zetland, a timid, fifty-something spinster, lives with her elder brother John in their parents once grand Georgian townhouse. Now in a state of disrepair, their home seems as dilapidated as Marion feels. But secrets lurk beneath the floorboards. John has “visitors” staying in their dark, dank basement. A basement Marion’s strictly forbidden from entering. Visitors that come, but never leave. Visitors that Marion never spots, but whose laundry she does weekly. Not to worry, John only wants to help them. That’s what Mother says. But when John suffers a heart attack, Marion must descend those dreaded steps into the unknown. How does Marion face a reality she’s unequipped to handle? The truth about her brother.
The Visitors is a character-driven piece with Marion as our tour guide. If you want non-stop action, this ain’t the book for you. It’s slow-burn and the action really doesn’t pick up until the last quarter of the book. Instead, we’re treated to an extended visit with Marion, who narrates through both present and flashback. Backstories are well-done and journey through Marion and John’s life. Highlighting the family’s many troubles, it’s like a superhero origin story, except the superhero? He’s really a monster. And while the story isn’t action-packed, characters are sufficiently interesting to drive the plot.
Marion is the focus. The star here. We’re glimpsing the world through her limited perspective. And limited is really the keyword. Having remained at home, never being employed or romantically attached, Marion’s life experience has been entirely filtered through her parents or brother. A group who never ceased in reminding Marion that she was plain, unintelligent, and incapable of caring for herself. “No one ever suggested what Marion might become, her future was of no importance whatsoever.”
Wholly dependent on her brother since her parents’ deaths, Marion blindly capitulates to his every whim. She’s so steeped in denial, preferring to live in a sort of perpetual fantasy world, that she refuses to consider what’s going on behind closed doors. She refers to the ladies lured and trapped in their house as “visitors” or “them.” Ostensibly dehumanizing them to avoid the truth. And it doesn’t help that Marion regularly hears Mother’s chiding, disappointed voice scolding her that “John only wants to help them.” Yup, it gets a little Norman Batesy up in here.
Marion’s sheltered existence and continued denial have left her in a childlike state. Desperately lonely, she refers to her childhood stuffed teddies as “her friends.” Her curious detachment when describing violent events could be how she survives. And maybe, her repeated denial and justifications are a defense mechanism. But is it equally possible still waters run deep? That there’s more to Marion than meets the eye?
Catherine Burns has done an extraordinary job designing a characters that simultaneously seems innocent, yet unbelievably creepy. It’s truly an unputdownable work. Hints are dropped, but are they hints? Is it our imagination? Painful truths are slowly unveiled leading to a stunning conclusion. Storytelling at its finest.
Thank you to netgalley and the publisher for giving he an advanced, complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.