As I delved into The Face in the Bathroom Floor, I felt like I was tiptoeing along a shadowed path in the woods, where every step hinted at secrets buried deep – secrets wrapped in moss and whispers, waiting to catch you off guard. Portland Jones doesn’t rush; she lures you in slowly, each chapter a measured step closer to some hidden revelation. It’s a whisper, a hint, a promise – then, just as you’re lulled into the rhythm, she wallops you with an ending as jolting as a clap of thunder on a clear night.
Erica’s journey feels almost alchemical; each chapter reveals another glint of her family’s murky past, layered with the kind of magical realism that makes you wonder exactly which parts of the tale Jones has plucked from her own life. There’s a texture here, as though the pages are tinged with secrets Portland herself might have whispered into them. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s hidden a wand or two behind her typewriter! And Erica’s dive into witchcraft is threaded with such authenticity, I felt myself squinting, wondering – is this the fiction part? Or is that truth smirking behind the page?
Though the early chapters are like the slow drip of a potion, building, simmering, and pulling you deeper with every page, you’ll suddenly find yourself caught in a whirlwind, swept into a finale so potent it leaves a taste – and a need for answers. Jones’s writing style, like an unassuming spell, begins with a whisper and ends with an echo that leaves you breathless. It’s the kind of journey that creeps up on you until you’re thoroughly enchanted, only realising it once you’re already under its spell.
As Erica begins to unravel the secrets of her lineage, the story transforms into a sort of literary time machine, pulling us back through the lives of her ancestors. These segments don’t just ground the narrative; they anchor it in a deep-rooted legacy, like wandering through an ancient forest, each twisted branch linking the past to the present. Portland Jones deftly layers each generation’s tale with the next, binding Erica’s journey to a tapestry woven from her family’s hidden histories, until it all builds to that heart-stopping crescendo.
It’s these glimpses into the family’s past that lend the story its depth and weight. Each trip back in time feels like peeling away another layer of secrets, revealing a richness and authority to Erica’s path. By the end, it’s no longer just one woman’s story – it’s an entire lineage of lives and whispers and echoes, each thread binding the next, leading you to a powerful, unforgettable ending that resonates like the tolling of a bell.
For fans of magic, drama, and a bit of the unexpected, this book delivers a heady brew of heartbreak, deception, and, as always with witchcraft, just a hint of mystery to keep you guessing. It’s a story that will slip into your thoughts long after you’ve turned the last page – a spell cast from start to finish.
