The Christmas Guest

The Christmas Guest, by Peter Swanson, reviewed by Luree Scott

The Christmas Guest by Peter Swanson is a novella that has many narrative twists and turns, as any good murder mystery should. You will get both the literal chills of the Christmas season, as well as a healthy dose of thrills—with plenty of ghosts, blood, and worst of all: supremely dysfunctional families coming together under one roof. It delightfully combines the gothic, supernatural aesthetic of Crimson Peak, mixed with the chipper coziness of Murder, She Wrote, which will certainly get any reader into a holiday mood.

Swanson pulls out all the trimmings with the structure of this story, dividing the book into two parts. The first is mostly epistolary, told through diary entries written by Ashley Smith, a young exchange student from America staying at an old British manor house for the holidays. Her narrative style is light, bubbly, and extremely campy, which only adds to the fun of this mystery. The reader is often left with many gaps in the timeline, being that Ashley takes time in between her entries to go out and live the story. She also has a habit of getting a little inebriated, so we often see entries that flow in this manner: “A little drunk now, to be honest with you. Night was magical and now I need to get under the covers because I’m SO tired and SO cold. Met the parents and they are SCARY. More later. Emma stuck by my side all night. So sweet!!” (13). 

Swanson uses the imperfections of the diary format to illustrate the humanness of our main character, as well as provide an adequate sense of suspense that keeps the pages turning. There is something so charming about the way Ashley experiences the week of this chaotic Christmas unfolding around her. She’s hopeful, excited, and a bit nervous at all times, which is the perfect embodiment of the holiday season itself. 

Now, because this first section is told from the diary perspective, there are many pages that use purely italicized text, which might take a minute for the eyes to adjust to. There is also a lack of dialogue quotations, many parentheticals, abbreviations of names (Ashley often calls Emma, the friend who invited her to the manor, E, for example), and even some scenes are told in a short, screenplay-like format. The sentence structure dips and dives just like the plotline, while still being simple and straightforward. It leans towards informal, even experimental. But this creates a neat sort of puzzle within itself that turns the mystery genre onto its head in a pleasant way.

The second half re-contextualizes the reason why this diary is being reread. This is where the mystery portion of the novella comes together in a surprisingly poignant way. Without spoiling the end, this is where the true emotional resonance of the story shines through. While the first part is a joyous and exciting romp through the English countryside (often seeming vapid, quirky, and sometimes cheesy), with a few strange happenings hinting at the death that is to come, the second part is a tale of grief, family trauma and loyalties, and the aftermath of Christmas’s past that leave you broken beyond repair. That’s what I admire so much about The Christmas Guest. It gives a bit of the magic and excitement of the season, while recognizing that this month can hold the most bitter and sorrowful memories for some. It is genre bending, cozy in essence, yet at the same time brutal. The murder itself is stunningly disturbing as well, so for the truest of thriller fans, this novella does indeed deliver.

The Chapman family is not the warm and jolly family you’d hope to spend the holidays with. They are full of perfectionists, masochists, and abusive dynamics that circle around each other endlessly. The family dinners showcase some of the tensest moments, as well as when Ashley spends time individually with Emma and Adam, the two Chapman siblings. In one of her diary entries, she writes, “We took a short walk, E and I, and she told me stories about how cruel her father could be, and how her mother never really did anything about it, and how Adam was always threatening to stop coming back for the holidays” (25). That is much of how the abuse is implied to the reader, which is a kindness of this novella. The abuse is never explicitly described, but we can glean much of what it may have looked like to live with the Chapmans through snippets of dialogue, the aura of the characters that Ashley herself describes, and even some ghostly dream imagery. Then, Swanson adds in the possibility of a violent killer in the woods behind the manor, preying on young women if they lose their way in the night, and all the external pressure starts to boil over. 

The best part of all: it’s only around ninety pages. The last couple months of the year are full of to-do lists and preparations. It can be overwhelming to add reading a book to the mix. But the reading experience of The Christmas Guest is like a sugar cookie snuck in the middle of the night. Quick, sweet, and satisfying. 

This is the novella for those who have mixed feelings about Christmas. Where you want to love it, but there are so many things other than “cheer” that you feel for it. Swanson purposefully made a cathartic expression of this discord. This novella is for those who are burnt out and hurt during a time that leaves no room for negativity. This novella is for those who want to remember it’s okay to need and want more than just Happy Holidays.

Peter Swanson, The Christmas Guest, William Morrow (HarperCollins Imprint), 2023

Luree Scott (she/her) is a writer and performer from San Diego, CA. She received a BA in Theatre Arts and English from the University of San Diego and an MFA in Creative Writing from UCR Palm Desert's Low Residency Program for Creative Writing, where she studied fiction and playwriting. She is a former Drama Editor for The Coachella Review. Her previous works can be read in The Alcalá Review, Kelp Journal, Little Thoughts Press, GXRL, Grande Dame Literary Journal, and Longleaf Review. Her Twitter is @luree_s.

Chouette

Chouette by Claire Oshetsky, reviewed by Luree Scott

Chouette by Claire Oshetsky is a fantastical novel that explores what it truly means to be a mother. Our protagonist, Tiny, takes an owl-woman as a lover in the night and is suddenly pregnant with an owl-baby. Written in a diary-like, first-person perspective, Tiny makes discoveries of not only the profound joys of having a baby, but also the very real horrors and miseries it provides. Early motherhood is often described as a special time in a woman’s life, yet the fears and heartache of that time are rarely mentioned. Childbirth is the foundation of life, yet it can also mean the death of so many things: the death of friendships; the death of a career; the death of a marriage vow; the death of your own sense of self.

In the first few chapters, the novel dissects the personal experience of pregnancy. This is where that first-person perspective gives an empathetic frame to Tiny’s whirling thoughts, which sometimes turn dark and hateful. For example, when she is first figuring out whether or not to keep the baby, she laments:

I wonder if it goes this way for all pregnant mothers: At first we fully recognize the existential threat that is growing inside us, but gradually evolutionary imperatives overcome the conscious mind’s objection, and the will to reproduce overcomes the will to survive, and the needs of the baby overcome the needs of the host, until the only choice left for us women is to be willing, happy participants in our own destruction. (29)

Tiny speaks of pregnancy as a matter of life and death. A fight. Not every pregnancy is the happiest time of a woman’s life. It is often a time of some of the greatest sorrows and challenges. Tiny also questions her ability to be a good mother. She is not always sure of what that looks like, and it’s frightening to think that you don’t have the skills to be one. It doesn’t help when Tiny’s mother-in-law makes sure she knows her place at the family barbeque, by ranting and raving things like, “Here I am doing my best to give you practical advice. You don’t have the mother-bone. You need my guidance.” (50)

The owl-baby also keeps Tiny from her hobbies and life’s work. She is suddenly shunned by her string quartet when she can no longer play in time. The owl-baby demands different music to be played and often hijacks Tiny’s body. Tiny is becoming imperfect in a way that the workplace barely accommodates, and she is suddenly isolated from the things and people she loves. Her husband does not offer much support during this time either. He starts to sleep in the garage because her smell has changed. 

Once the owl-baby, Chouette, is born, she is automatically recognized as different. Tiny often makes a comparison between her growing child and the children of her husband’s brothers, whom she often calls “dog-children” (102) – an apt description, seeing as dogs are popular, loyal, and average house pets. Compared with the mysterious and misunderstood owl, often symbolic of death or bad luck, Oshetsky is sending us a clear message: this is how society views children with developmental disabilities, versus normal, seemingly perfect children. Tiny is no longer invited to the family barbeques when they find out the baby is not normal. Nearly everyone in Tiny’s life is depicted as being disgusted by or afraid of Chouette. 

The husband is the worst offender of this. He is unhappy with Chouette as she is, and researches night and day for a cure. Tiny, on the other hand, loves Chouette just as she is. This attitude is constantly thrown back in her face, as the husband often says, “I can’t stand how you give up on her like this. I can’t stand the way you make up grotesque stories about her. She deserves a normal life.” (145) 

Their lives together become a question of whether to mold your child to be what you want them to be, or to love them unconditionally. This battle between them becomes even more desperate and graphic as the chapters progress. There are extremes pushed and boundaries broken.

Before continuing, I feel it is important to note that there are depictions of violence, animal death, gore, and emotional domestic abuse within these pages. Oshetsky’s prose is not overly detailed or exploitative of these dark themes, and ultimately serves the story, but the visuals can be disturbing and visceral regardless. Please read with discretion and care for your mental and emotional wellbeing. 

With that being said, I feel that Oshetsky unapologetically shines a light on the red flags the husband presents (such as gaslighting and intolerance for Tiny’s opinions), and the silent growth of the abuse cycle. This can be an important read for some because it actively criticizes wrongful abuse while also showing that Tiny manages to get out of the relationship. It’s also worth mentioning here that there is a scene that falls into the trope of “kill your abuser,” which I do not always agree with. I often feel like there should be more literary representation of the hotlines, non-profits, and resources out there for victims of domestic abuse, so when I personally see this trope, I’m not a huge fan. But Chouette is a metaphorical novel more than anything, so this death can be viewed more as a metaphor for cutting ties with an abusive person or cycle.

In fact, the use of magic and metaphor is what kept me turning the page. There are gorgeous descriptions of nature and music, which often collide to make sequences of harmonic chaos. There’s even a list of all the music mentioned in the novel at the back of the book, so if you like reading to music, you have a playlist very lovingly created for you by the author!

Oshetsky has a masterful way of connecting the sights and sounds of her prose with the overarching theme of her novel: that motherhood is both messy and beautiful. Routine, yet hectic. There is a stark honesty in her words that does not withhold anything. A wonderfully poetic mixture of the positive and negative experiences of motherhood. Sure, many of the plot points mentioned above are grim, but Tiny has this beautiful defiance about her throughout as well. Tiny’s story is as much about perseverance as it is about hardship. She is always an advocate for her child. Tiny protects and preserves what makes Chouette special, and fights to let her grow up in her own way. 

For all the harshness this novel presents, Tiny’s bravery and conviction during adversity is what gives the novel its value. The air of undeniable hope despite it all. Oshetsky has created an exercise in sitting with grief and pain to find beauty—in birth, in life, in eventual parting. She has presented a true triumph of motherhood while remaining viciously honest about every thought and feeling. The challenge that this novel gives to the reader, to sit with the ugliness of our early days, as both mothers and children, makes Chouette a true artwork. It’s meant to make you ponder the ideals of motherhood we have been spoon-fed. It is an invitation to prepare for the rain and the thunder of our own fertility, and to heal our open wounds — because what’s more healing than knowing you are not alone?

If you or a loved one are facing domestic or dating abuse, here is a list of resources that may provide relief and support:

Domestic Violence Support | National Domestic Violence Hotline (thehotline.org)

Healthy relationships for young adults | love is respect

National Sexual Assault Hotline: Get Help | RAINN

Get help | Office on Women's Health (womenshealth.gov)

Claire Oshetsky, Chouette, Ecco (HarperCollins Publishers Imprint), 2021

Luree Scott (she/her) is a writer and performer from San Diego, CA. She received a BA in Theatre Arts and English from the University of San Diego and an MFA in Creative Writing from UCR Palm Desert's Low Residency Program for Creative Writing, where she studied fiction and playwriting. She is a former Drama Editor for The Coachella Review. Her previous works can be read in The Alcalá Review, Kelp Journal, Little Thoughts Press, GXRL, Grande Dame Literary Journal, and Longleaf Review. Her Twitter is @luree_s.