Blood on Her Tongue: A Twisted Tale of Sibling Bonds and Shattered Expectations
As soon as I laid eyes on the cover of Blood on Her Tongue by Jenna Black, it was love at first sight—a striking design that hinted at the dark, gothic storytelling I crave. With a title that promises intrigue and horror, I wholeheartedly marked it as one of my most anticipated releases of 2025. Yet, here I am, teetering between fascination and confusion. Spoiler alert: the ride was not what I expected, and it’s a doozy.
From the very first page, Black plunges readers into a world dripping with unsettling imagery and foreboding atmospheres. The keen descriptions had me on edge—creepy bogs and haunting characters, exactly the kind of deliciously chilling content that brings me such joy in horror novels. However, just as swiftly as the story captivated me, it began to unravel, morphing into a narrative that felt rushed and oddly juvenile, resembling a YA novel that lost its way.
The heart of the story lies with twins Lucy and Sarah, who share a unique bond—equal parts devotion and competition. Right away, I found myself drawn to Sarah’s haunting chapters, particularly her letters and unraveling sanity as she discovers the bog woman. The way Black penned those moments was nothing short of captivating; it had me eagerly flipping pages. In contrast, I found Lucy’s inner monologues plodding and her personality, frankly, a drag. I wanted to like her; after all, who doesn’t root for the underdog? But her arc simply didn’t resonate with me.
The narrative suffered from tonal inconsistencies as it lost that beautiful Gothic atmosphere. Phrases like "the scene of the crime," which felt jarringly misplaced for the late Victorian setting, only pulled me further away from the world Black built. Despite my love for creepy sibling dynamics, the emotional depth necessary to make their relationship resonate was glaringly absent. By the end, I was left scratching my head, wondering what Black’s ultimate thesis was. Was it merely a commentary on the evils of men, called forth with oversimplified tropes? Or were we supposed to embrace the idea that sharing a life with an otherworldly entity is preferable to solitude?
(Spoilers Ahead!) The underlying motifs of female empowerment and rage against the patriarchal structure felt muddled and underexplored. Yes, the men were despicable; yes, they got their just desserts, but I expected a rollercoaster of emotions, and frankly, I was left feeling “meh” about the whole climax.
For those who appreciate a well-crafted horror tale, here are a few suggestions that might tighten the narrative further: infuse more period-appropriate language, prune unnecessary inner dialogue, and delve deeper into the complexities of the twins’ relationship. And please, connect those fascinating references to the mad aunt better!
Despite the tumult of my feelings, I find myself eagerly awaiting Jenna Black’s next offering. I have no doubt she has a sparkle that can light up a story—and perhaps work on reining in some of the chaos I found in this one.
Overall, I’d recommend Blood on Her Tongue to horror enthusiasts who enjoy surreal sibling tales steeped in gothic imagery, but be prepared for a narrative that feels like a fleeting wade through murky waters. Here’s hoping the final version clears up some of the bogs that dragged it down.