You know that feeling when you’re alone in a room full of dolls, and their little glass eyes seem to follow your every move? That spine-tingling sensation is exactly what Lisa Unger captures in her latest psychological thriller, “The Doll’s House.” It’s a short but potent tale that’ll make you think twice about those seemingly innocent figurines on your shelf.
A Familiar Setup with a Twisted Core
At first glance, “The Doll’s House” by Lisa Unger might seem like your typical “family moves into creepy old house” story. But Unger, being the crafty storyteller she is, takes this well-worn premise and injects it with a fresh dose of psychological horror that’ll keep you up way past your bedtime.
Jules, a widow still raw from her husband’s suicide, falls head over heels for Kirin, a charismatic artist known for his eerily lifelike dolls and puppets. Before you can say “red flag,” Jules and her teenage daughter Scout are packing up their city life and moving into Kirin’s sprawling mansion. It’s all very Lifetime movie so far, right?
But here’s where things get interesting. Scout, our angsty teen protagonist, stumbles upon a handmade doll that supposedly belonged to Kirin’s long-lost sister, Emma. And let me tell you, this is no ordinary Barbie. As Scout digs deeper into Emma’s disappearance, she uncovers a web of family secrets darker than the mascara-stained tears on the doll’s porcelain cheeks.
Dolls, Puppets, and the Uncanny Valley
Unger’s use of dolls and puppets as a central motif is… well, it’s downright creepy. And I mean that in the best possible way. There’s something inherently unsettling about these inanimate objects that are designed to mimic human form, and Unger plays on this discomfort masterfully.
Kirin’s workshop, filled with his creations, becomes a character in its own right. You can almost hear the tiny whispers and shuffling movements when no one’s looking. It’s giving me goosebumps just thinking about it.
The Puppet Master’s Dark Art
But it’s not just about the creep factor. Unger uses the dolls as a metaphor for control and manipulation. Kirin, our charming yet sinister artist, sees the people in his life as puppets to be controlled. He’s the puppet master, pulling the strings, and Jules and Scout are his latest acquisitions.
This theme of control extends beyond Kirin to other characters as well. Jules, in her grief and desire for stability, allows herself to be manipulated. Scout, in her rebellion, tries to cut her own strings. It’s a dance of autonomy and submission that keeps you guessing until the very end.
A Tale of Two Perspectives
One of the strengths of “The Doll’s House” is its dual narrative. We get both Jules’ and Scout’s perspectives, and let me tell you, it’s like watching two different movies playing out at the same time.
Jules, bless her heart, is so caught up in her newfound romance that she’s blind to the red flags popping up faster than daisies in spring. You want to reach through the pages and shake some sense into her. But Unger does a great job of showing how grief and the desire for security can cloud one’s judgment.
Scout, on the other hand, is our resident Nancy Drew, sniffing out trouble and piecing together the mystery of Emma’s disappearance. Her sections have a more urgent, thriller-like pace that contrasts nicely with Jules’ slower, more atmospheric chapters.
The Mother-Daughter Dynamic
At its core, “The Doll’s House” by Lisa Unger is as much about the relationship between Jules and Scout as it is about the mystery surrounding Kirin and Emma. Unger captures the tension of a mother-daughter relationship strained by grief and change with painful accuracy.
Scout’s anger at her mother for moving on, her fear of losing another parent, her struggle to find her own identity—it all rings true. And Jules’ attempts to balance her own needs with those of her daughter feel achingly real. It’s this emotional core that elevates the story beyond just another thriller.
Unger’s Prose: Sharp as a Puppet Maker’s Tools
Let’s talk about Unger’s writing for a sec, because… damn. Her prose is as sharp and precise as Kirin’s tools. She has this knack for creating atmosphere with just a few well-chosen words. Like when she describes the Winslow house:
“The house looms. My mother is already in Kirin’s arms. They sway like they’re dancing, so in love. My mom’s long black coat and raven hair punch against the riot of autumn color, the cruel, beautiful blue of the sky.”
You can feel the weight of the house, the chill in the air, the unease bubbling beneath the surface. It’s good stuff, folks.
Pacing: A Delicate Balance
Now, I gotta admit, the pacing in “The Doll’s House” by Lisa Unger is a bit of a mixed bag. The first half of the story moves at a leisurely pace, building atmosphere and tension. It’s like watching a spider slowly, methodically spinning its web.
But then, holy moly, does it kick into high gear in the second half. The revelations come fast and furious, and the action ramps up to eleven. It’s exhilarating, sure, but it can also feel a bit jarring compared to the slower build-up.
That said, Unger manages to stick the landing. The climax is tense and satisfying, tying up most of the loose ends while still leaving a few threads dangling to tickle your imagination.
Themes: More Than Just Thrills and Chills
While “The Doll’s House” delivers on the thriller front, it’s not just about the scares. Unger weaves in some meaty themes that’ll stick with you long after you’ve turned the last page.
The Nature of Grief and Moving On
Jules’ struggle to move past her husband’s death is handled with sensitivity and nuance. Unger explores how grief can make us vulnerable, how it can cloud our judgment and make us grasp at any chance for happiness, even when it might not be good for us.
The Masks We Wear
Just like Kirin’s dolls and puppets, the characters in “The Doll’s House” by Lisa Unger wear masks, hiding their true selves from the world and sometimes from themselves. The idea that we never truly know someone, that everyone has secrets, is a recurring motif that adds layers of complexity to the story.
The Price of Art
There’s an interesting subtext about the cost of creativity. Kirin’s art comes at a terrible price, both to himself and others. It’s a chilling take on the “tortured artist” trope that’ll make you look at those “live, laugh, love” tchotchkes in a whole new light.
The Verdict: A Solid Addition to Unger’s Oeuvre
All in all, “The Doll’s House” is a solid entry in Lisa Unger’s impressive body of work. Fans of her previous novels like “Confessions on the 7:45” and “The Red Hunter” will find plenty to love here. And if you’re new to Unger’s work, this novella-length story is a perfect introduction to her brand of psychological suspense.
Is it perfect? Nah. The pacing issues I mentioned earlier do hold it back a bit. And if you’re not a fan of the “unreliable narrator” trope, you might find yourself frustrated with Jules at times.
But these are minor quibbles in what is otherwise a taut, atmospheric thriller that’ll have you side-eyeing your kid’s old dolls for weeks to come.
Who Should Read “The Doll’s House”?
- Fans of psychological thrillers with a supernatural edge
- Anyone who found “Coraline” just a little too tame
- Readers who enjoy unreliable narrators and multiple perspectives
- Those who appreciate stories that blend family drama with mystery
- Anyone who’s ever felt slightly unsettled by a room full of dolls (so… everyone?)
Final Thoughts: A Haunting Tale That Lingers
“The Doll’s House” might be a quick read, but it’s one that’ll stick with you. Unger has crafted a story that works on multiple levels – as a straightforward thriller, as a meditation on grief and family, and as a slightly meta commentary on the nature of storytelling itself.
It’s the kind of book that’ll have you turning pages late into the night, jumping at every creak and shadow. And when you’re done, you might just find yourself giving those innocent-looking dolls on your shelf a suspicious side-eye.
So go ahead, pick up “The Doll’s House.” Just… maybe don’t read it alone in a room full of dolls. You know, just in case.