‘Where I End’ by Sophie White

Fiction – Kindle edition; Tramp Press; 178 pages; 2022.

We will wash the thing and dry the thing. New clothes, fresh sheets. We’ll brush its hair and brush its teeth. We do the bath every Thursday but on a Thursday before Dada comes, we take extra time. (p20)

Meet 19-year-old Aoileann. Yes, that’s how she talks about her mother (“the thing”) with whom she lives, along with her grandmother. The trio reside on a small island off the Irish coast.

But this is no romantic idyll. This is a cruel place steeped in superstition and folklore, where dead babies are heard crying, people go missing and locals spit at Aoileann because they regard her as some kind of monster — for reasons that are never fully explained.

And what happens on this island, and specifically in Aoileann’s home, is horrific. It’s so horrific they don’t want anyone on the island to find out what they get up to behind closed doors. They stack blades of serrated limestone in the square frames of the windows — to block the view in and the view out — and they keep Aoileann’s unsuspecting father, who lives elsewhere, in the dark.

A darkly compelling tale

Oh, Where I End is a creepy book. Part horror, part psychological thriller, and with a nod to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Doris Lessing’s The Fifth Child, it’s a strange but hugely compelling story.

Sophie White cleverly withholds information so that you’re plunged right into the drama without fully understanding what it is about and so it’s up to you as the reader to interpret what’s going on — and why.

The protagonist’s first-person voice is engaging and intriguing, but as the narrative unfolds disturbing elements of her personality begin to shine through. She’s uneducated and naive, but she’s also frustrated by the dreary routine she’s forced to perform as one of her mother’s carers.

My days have always been obligation after obligation arranged into rows of tedium. (p93)

Cruel and despicable

She treats her bedridden, non-verbal, incontinent mother appallingly. We don’t know why her mother is in such a state — we find that out right at the end — but we know she’s always trying to scrawl messages on the walls and floors of her bedroom and occasionally manages to escape.

My bed-thing is a tormentor too, but with different methods. The bed-thing punishes very passively. It torments us in its listless way, holding us in a grip of obligation. Locked into its care, we try to slow the rot of it, we try to contain the mess of it. (p98)

But life takes an exciting turn for Aoileann when a stranger — an unmarried mother of a baby infant — arrives on the island to take up a short-term artist’s residency at the local museum. Desperate for any kind of relationship, she befriends Rachael, who is grateful for the company, but it soon morphs into a creepy obsession. Yet Rachael appears to be none the wiser about her new babysitter’s nefarious intentions.

Horror story

Where I End is so OMINOUS, UNNERVING and, in some places, deeply UNPLEASANT.

I don’t know why I kept turning the pages. Well, actually, I do know: it’s because Sophie White is a terrific writer.

Her prose is lyrical yet completely devoid of sentiment. She’s not afraid to push boundaries and tear up the genre playbook to create something that is both confronting and curious. She is brilliant at evoking atmosphere and creating genuinely chilling moments without using exposition.

While I’m not sure there’s any point to the story beyond being “entertainment” (if you like being creeped out, that is), This is the End is an unforgettable read. And the ending, when it comes, is next to perfect.