Camilla Bruce’s You Let Me In is a dark, twisted fantasy that will stay with you

Camilla Bruce’s debut novel, You Let Me In, isn’t the kind of fantasy you’re probably expecting — and that’s what makes it thrilling.

Maybe once a year, at most, I will finish reading a book and continue thinking about it for weeks after I add it to my bookshelf. It’s only April, but Camilla Bruce’s You Let Me In might have claimed its place as 2020’s “book I couldn’t forget — even if I wanted to.”

I’ve had some time to process what I’ve witnessed, but not nearly enough, it seems. This is one of those stories that pulls you in and plants you right there in front of everything that’s happening as if you’re actually there.

In this case, that was a little haunting. But I’m quick to forgive a haunting tale as long as it’s thrilling, and I’ve long since set aside any gripes I may have had about how disturbed I felt after consuming the entire story in two sittings.

Camilla Bruce’s debut novel isn’t the kind of fantasy you’re probably expecting, and that’s what makes it thrilling. We’ve all read stories about fairies visiting children — which sounds so much creepier now than it did a few weeks ago, but books like this will do that to you I guess. This isn’t like any of those stories. And that’s a good thing.

Cassandra Tipp only has one friend — and “friend” might not be the best word to describe him. Pepper-Man is a fairy who rarely leaves Cassandra’s side. And the more he begins to interfere with her life in the non-fairy world, the less her family believes he exists.

Time passes. One accusation of murder becomes multiple. The further the reader descends into this novel, the harder it becomes even for them to distinguish truth from fiction.

This book’s greatest strength is its pacing, especially in the time it spends establishing Cassandra’s fantasy as truth before introducing the other side of the story. It’s not just that no one believes her, but that the things she’s seeing might be the direct result of the unspeakable things that are presumed to have happened to her in the real world.

So, what’s the truth? Is Cassandra living inside her own fantasy, or are these things actually happening in the real world? That’s left up to the reader to decide. And that’s what makes the story disturbing enough that you simply can’t get it out of your head. (Well, I can’t, anyway.)

Whether that’s a good thing or not is also up to you. But when a story lingers, that means it’s doing its job.

Stories that stay with you do so because they speak undeniable truths. Even in fantasy, there are always portals that send you back to the real world just long enough to make the necessary connections to your life, your world, and what (if anything) you’re supposed to be learning from all this.

Whether or not Cassandra is the unreliable narrator of her own past, this book opens up the perfect (and timely) opportunity to discuss trauma’s role in all our stories, fictional or not. Perhaps it’s not the trauma itself that makes the greatest lasting impact, but instead how you go on living even when it ends.

Whatever you’re going through, perhaps telling your story — your version of it — is the best way to survive it.

You Let Me In is now available in print, e-book, and audiobook formats.