There’s a certain kind of novel that feels like stepping into a room where the air is thick and nothing sits quite right. The Shadow of the Object gave me exactly that feeling.
The story follows Flora, a Londoner visiting her family in Mexico City. A dog bite sends her into hospital, where she meets Wilhelmina, an elderly German woman who collects pre cinema toys and strange optical instruments. Their conversations drift through corridors that feel half real and half dream. Magic lanterns flicker. Shadows stretch. Everything feels slightly warped, as if the world has slipped a few degrees off centre.
When Flora returns to London, the atmosphere shifts. She carries Wilhelmina’s influence with her, along with an unusual task and a sense that reality has become porous. Her connection with Max, Wilhelmina’s son, forms the spine of the second half, though I found myself far more invested in Flora’s inner world than in their relationship.
The first half absolutely gripped me. The hospital setting felt like a space outside the world, suspended and feverish. Wilhelmina is one of those characters who arrives fully formed, strange yet magnetic. I loved the way the book played with objects and perspective. Those occultesque toys, the magic lantern, the odd magazines, the silver Flora polishes in the basement. Everything felt charged with meaning.
The atmosphere is the real triumph. It’s roiling and slightly seedy, full of dread that never tips into horror. Nothing feels clean. The prose clogs you up in the best way. I also enjoyed the reflections on listening, grief, disease, and the quiet ways people connect.
The second half lost some of its spark. Flora and Max never held my attention in the same way, and the emotional weight didn’t quite settle. The propulsion remained, but the focus felt thinner.
Readers who love conceptual, atmospheric fiction. Anyone drawn to uncanny spaces, odd objects, and stories that feel like lucid dreams. If you enjoy novels that prioritise mood over plot, this will be your thing.
Even with its uneven pacing, I’m glad I read it. It’s strange, clever, and full of moments that made me pause. A quiet little fever of a book.
