At first glance, Straw Girl appears to be a supernatural memoir wrapped in the guise of fiction. But spend a few chapters in its pages and it becomes clear that the haunting goes deeper than creaky floorboards or whispered threats from the beyond. It’s psychological, autobiographical, emotional, and yes—spiritual.
The novel follows Mel, an Air Force veteran adjusting to civilian life, as she takes a last-ditch house-sitting job that places her inside a known haunted farmhouse. At night, the house is chilling. Literally. Every spectral footstep, every door opening without a sound, blurs the line between psychological unrest and paranormal activity.
But here’s the trick: the ghosts may not be the scariest thing in this house.
A Ghost Story with Grounded Trauma
What elevates Straw Girl is how it ties supernatural disturbance to the psychological trauma of its narrator. Mel’s experiences with harassment, assault, and institutional gaslighting are real—and visceral. She wakes from nightmares that have nothing to do with spirits but everything to do with memory. These scenes are not gratuitous but essential, offering a mirror between the ghostly “let me in” pleas of the dead and the equally unrelenting memories that break into her consciousness.
To that point, neuroscientific studies have found that PTSD sufferers often experience heightened sensitivity to environmental cues—like sound, light, and even temperature. The book exploits these phenomena to deepen the horror, anchoring its ghost story in somatic realism. When Mel shivers under three blankets, we shiver too.
Who It’s For
This is not your average horror story. It’s for readers who crave emotional complexity, not just jump scares. If you’re drawn to ghost stories like Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House or Jennifer McMahon’s The Winter People—where psychological trauma and supernatural ambiguity coexist—you’ll find Straw Girl deeply rewarding.
It’s not for readers looking for gore, cheap thrills, or easy answers. Nor is it suited for readers uncomfortable with mature themes or those seeking a family-friendly, “cozy” paranormal tale.
What Sets It Apart
- No AI Used: Barry’s declaration that the book is free from generative AI offers a nostalgic return to handcrafted storytelling. You feel her presence on every page.
- Military Accuracy and Realism: The military background isn’t just window dressing. The book reflects authentic protocols, emotions, and fallout from service.
- Unreliable Memory as a Narrative Device: Mel’s uncertainty about whether she’s imagining things is more compelling than the ghosts themselves.
- Hauntings as Unprocessed History: Just as the farmhouse has “no-go” zones, so too does Mel’s psyche. The metaphor is elegant and chilling.
Constructive Takeaways
While the book masterfully blends trauma and the paranormal, some readers may find the pace slow during exposition-heavy sections. The blend of diary-like introspection with plot-driven tension can feel uneven at times. Still, this gives the reader room to breathe and reflect—a necessity when processing a story that feels eerily possible.
Content Warning
This book contains strong language, depictions of trauma and sexual assault, paranormal elements, and psychological distress. Reader discretion is strongly advised for sensitive topics.
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