I'm Thinking of Ending Things

I received an ARC of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This did not affect my opinion of the book or my review itself.

"Something that disorients, that unsettles what's taken for granted, something that disturbs and disrupts reality--that's scary."

This quote sums up Reid's brilliant, eerie, disorienting thriller perfectly. In I'm Thinking of Ending Things, Reid seems to be telling the simple story of a couple, possibly on the verge of a breakup, on a road trip to visit the man's parents.

But nothing seems quite right. And that is the brilliance of this book, and of Reid's writing. Little things feel off, appear strange, building the tension until it's almost unbearable. The reader has to keep going on this show more not-quite-normal journey, no matter how frightening it gets.

You have to find out how it ends. Because let me tell you, not only will you not be able to put this book down, but the ending will absolutely leave you breathless.

Reid reminds me of authors like Shirley Jackson, who take a seemingly ordinary, possibly mundane, slice of life, and completely turn it on its head with a slow buildup that always packs the most eerie of punches. show less

I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a claustrophobic, quietly devastating descent into dread. It’s the type of novel that makes you distrust a sentence after you read it. Iain Reid turns a simple premise—a young woman travelling with her boyfriend to meet his parents—into something unnerving and existentially cruel. It’s brilliant.

The horror here is not blood or spectacle. It is the slow realization that loneliness can become its own architecture. Reid understands that the mind is capable of building rooms you cannot leave, conversations you cannot revise, and versions of yourself you are forced to live beside.

The prose is spare and controlled, which makes the growing unease hit harder. Every interaction feels slightly show more misaligned. Every silence carries too much weight. By the time the novel reveals what it has been doing, it becomes less a twist than a sad, ugly truth finally stepping into the light. It leaves you shaken because it understands how easily a life can narrow into regret, fantasy, isolation, and the terrible need to have been seen by someone.

A bleak, intelligent, deeply uncomfortable novel about identity, memory, and the stories we tell ourselves when reality has become unbearable. show less

I didn’t mean to read this book in one sitting but I accidentally did, and had I finished it earlier in the evening I’d have immediately started to reread it.

The dust jacket boasts “you will be scared and you won’t know why” and that really is the most spot-on description. From the opening scene I was on edge and I flew through the final quarter of the book possibly *too* quickly.

I wish I could say more without spoiling, but I can’t, so just read it. But after I return it to the Library because I am 1000% reading it again.

You know, I liked it. I liked it all through the the buildup, even though I knew a twist was coming, and I hate waiting for twists. I was a little annoyed at the philosophical asides -- they felt like showing off.

But then, going through it again, the philosophical digressions were the best parts, and the narrator, who was real enough at the get-go, fell apart and become the obvious construction she always was -- a fantasy of Some Nice Dim Lady being played out until it couldn't hold anymore. It went from being a postage-stamp-sized thriller to an essay on loneliness, and imagination, and pulling yourself together with whatever you have.

All of this, and it genuinely did scare me. The farmhouse with the dead sheep and the mother with show more the missing toenail, and the empty school, and the fucking janitor slithering around in there.

I guess I'm here to tell you that I still believe in puzzle-books that you have to read twice. I'm a fan of having to tussle with things, and feeling a kind of ownership in the process. show less

"I'm thinking of ending things. Once this thought arrives, it stays. It sticks. It lingers. It dominates."

As this novel opens, the unnamed narrator is with her fairly recent boyfriend Jake driving on snowy country roads on their way to meet his parents. As they drive, she is asking herself why she is going to meet his parents, since, "I'm thinking of ending things,"

If you've ever read anything by Reid you know that he doesn't always ground his stories in strict reality. Things sometimes happen that feel a little warped, out of place, not real, and so it goes in this book. Through-out we are in the narrator's mind, at the strange dinner with Jake's strange parents at their isolated house. And when they leave to return to the city, show more driving through a snow storm on deserted roads, detouring to a dark and desolate school things become stranger and scarier. It's not quite a horror story, but close enough, as the unease and suspense becomes dread and fear.

I frequently don't like books that verge on horror, particularly when there are no logical explanations and things don't make sense. But I really enjoyed the atmosphere Reid has created in this book. The book is masterful at building a sense of foreboding and fear, even though (for a while at least), not a lot is happening. During the drive, Jake and the narrator engage in philosophical discussions, and when things get weird, the reader is left wondering what is paranoia and what is reality.

Recommended
3 1/2 stars show less

Jesus Christ, this was disturbing. In particular, the part about the nails and hair really got to me–it was kind of similar to when I saw the papercut scene in Everything Everywhere. Something about self mutilation that's enough to harm but not cause permanent damage, especially for hands, really makes me twitch.

Also, it's somewhat funny that I went into this book with the thought that the title sounded suicidal. It's disturbing when you actually consider what those phone calls meant throughout the book, however. It was the protagonist attempting to ignore and delay their suicide. Asking "what are you waiting for"? took on two meanings: one, where they could've taken action all those years; second, where they can no longer live with show more the regret of not having answered it the first time.

Overall, this was a pretty thrilling read. Reid does a good job of making you feel unsettled with the stilted dialogue (interestingly enough, I thought some of the monologue sounded like something I would write in my journal. Look how that turned out), environment, and repeated imagery/phrases. There's also some good messaging about loneliness, which I think is particularly applicable to this modern era of separating ourselves from others by a screen. show less

To say that I’m Thinking of Ending Things is one of the most unsettling books you will ever read may sound like hyperbole. Trust me when I say that it is the honest truth. Reading Mr. Reid’s debut novel gave me disturbing dreams in between bouts of fitful sleep. It made me hide under the covers and snuggle closer to my husband, as if he could protect me. It brought back childhood fears of something lurking under the bed, to the point where I could not sleep with my back facing the edge of the bed. It raised my heart rate and elevated my blood pressure. In general, it freaked me out.

The brilliance of I’m Thinking of Ending Things is that there is nothing in the book itself that should scare anyone. The story starts innocently show more enough. There are no creepy monsters hiding out in sewers or haunting dreams. There are no sociopaths on the rampage. There is no blood and gore. There are none of the hallmarks of true horror, and yet the story is terrifying.

It is terrifying in its slow build. Just like the falling snow, the hints that there is something not quite right about this trip to meet the parents are few at first but seen much more frequently as the trip progresses. None of the hints make sense, but they suffice in making the reader uncomfortable with the events as they unfold as they pile up.

It is terrifying in its lack of specificity. There are no names within the novel other than Jake’s. There are no place names other than a Dairy Queen. The entire novel is nondescript. This lack of defining features adds an eerie, timeless quality to the story, as if it could happen at any point in time. The lack of character definition creates the feeling that it could happen to anyone. The fact that there is nothing overtly scary about the story lends an ominous air to the few characters and bleak setting of the story.

It is terrifying in its philosophical complexity. The narrator’s internal and external dialogues are intense and complicated. They cover a wide swath of subject matter, but the particular focus is on relationships – why we enter them, why we end them, what we get out of them, and so forth. Within this focus, the narrator touches on the idea of solitude, free will, and a person’s subconscious mind. These discussions highlight Mr. Reid’s philosophical background, but more importantly, they add an air of unease to the already tense atmosphere.

I’m Thinking of Ending Things is, thankfully, short, but there is so much tension and emotion built into each page that it feels much longer. It is a novel you will want to read quickly but cannot due to the way it makes you feel while reading. It is a novel that will keep you thinking about it for a long, long time. It is one of those rare reads that will change your expectations of a book because of what it delivers. It is one of the best books I have read in a long time. show less