The Red Tree

This book is… strange. But in a way that kind of pulls you in and doesn’t let go, it isn’t your typical horror story. It’s slow, very internal, and honestly feels more like watching someone quietly fall apart than anything else. You’re following Sarah, a writer dealing with grief, who moves into this isolated house—and things just get more and more unsettling from there.

The atmosphere is what really makes this book. It’s heavy, lonely, and a little suffocating. Nothing is outright terrifying, but there’s this constant uneasy feeling, like something isn’t right—even when you can’t quite explain why.

I’ll be honest, though—it can be confusing at times. The writing jumps around a bit, and there were moments where I had to stop and think about what was actually happening. But it also kind of works, because you’re right there in her head as she’s unraveling.

Sarah isn’t the easiest character to like, but she feels real. Messy, grieving, making questionable choices—it all feels very human.