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Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Between Series Book 1) Kindle Edition
Nothing much exciting rolls through Violet White's sleepy, seaside town...until River West comes along. River rents the guesthouse behind Violet's crumbling estate, and as eerie, grim things start to happen, Violet begins to wonder about the boy living in her backyard. Is River just a crooked-smiling liar with pretty eyes and a mysterious past? Or could he be something more? Violet's grandmother always warned her about the Devil, but she never said he could be a dark-haired boy who takes naps in the sun, who likes coffee, who kisses you in a cemetery...who makes you want to kiss back. Violet's already so knee-deep in love, she can't see straight. And that's just how River likes it.
A gothic thriller romance with shades of Stephen King and F. Scott Fitzgerald, set against a creepy summertime backdrop.
Praise for Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea:
A 2013 YALSA Teens Top Ten nominee
A 2017 YALSA Popular Paperback
“Tucholke’s gothic tone, plot, and setting, complete with a deteriorating estate full of dark family secrets, is reminiscent of Daphne du Maurier or YA fare such as Kami Garcia’s and Margaret Stohl’s Beautiful Creatures.”
–-SLJ starred review
“Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea is a stunning debut with complex characters, an atmospheric setting, and a distinct voice. Tucholke’s command of imagery and language is especially striking…Tucholke has real talent and, hopefully, will be writing for years to come.”
-–VOYA starred review
"People die; children stalk the cemetery with stakes; and strange, alluring River delights and frightens Violet in equal measure…the faded elegance that permeates almost every page, elevates this above more generic offerings of its type. Violet, too, has a quirky uniqueness that will draw readers, just as it draws River—for better or worse.”
-–Booklist starred review
- LanguageEnglish
- Publication dateJanuary 15, 2022
- Reading age14 - 18 years
- File size1169 KB
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Editorial Reviews
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Review
—EntertainmentWeekly.com
“If you liked Beautiful Creatures (the book or the movie), Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea is right up your alley. It has a similar gothic romance you'll be rooting for the whole book through!”
—Seventeen.com
“Deliciously creepy.”
—TheAtlanticWire.com
“A perfect read for stormy summer nights.”
—The Boston Globe
“Mysterious hotties, eerie events and gothic supernatural romance in a crumbling mansion on the lonely coast of Maine… We totally want this book to be our new boyfriend.”
—MTV.com
“Magnificent prose, fascinating histories of residents in the seaside town, and a boy with a disturbing ability rarely seen in today's young adult books. Share the first of this trilogy with fans of Laini Taylor’s Daughter of Smoke and Bone.”
—Shelf Awareness
*“A stunning debut with complex characters, an atmospheric setting, and a distinct voice… Tucholke has real talent.”
—VOYA, starred review
*“Tucholke’s gothic tone, plot, and setting, complete with a deteriorating estate full of dark family secrets, is reminiscent of Daphne du Maurier or YA fare such as Kami Garcia’s and Margaret Stohl’s Beautiful Creatures). Give this one to fans of creepy mysteries, particularly tales that don’t skimp on the violence.”
—SLJ, starred review
“A chilling supernatural exploration of free will and reality’s fluidity.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Tucholke strikes just the right balance between the windswept, seaside setting and Violet’s interior struggles with right and wrong.”
—BCCB
“A rich blend of gothic horror and modern romance… A lush setting and provocative characters elevate this debut above others in the supernatural-romance genre.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Lavishly rendered, darkly romantic, and beautifully unsettling—Tucholke’s debut isn't a book you'll soon forget.”
—Melissa Marr, New York Times bestselling author of the Wicked Lovely series
“Like something between a disturbed dream and a wicked fantasy, Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea will slip under your skin and capture the darkest corners of your imagination. This is a hypnotic, terrifying debut that won't soon escape my mind.”
—Nova Ren Suma, author of Imaginary Girls
“Tucholke’s story of devils, innocence, and family secrets is lush and rhythmic as a song. Seductive with a capital ‘S.’”
—Kendare Blake, author of Anna Dressed in Blood and Girl of Nightmares
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
“You stop fearing the Devil when you’re holding his hand.”
Freddie said this to me, when I was little.
Everyone called my grandmother by her nickname, even my parents, because, as she put it, Freddie, short for Fredrikke was her name. Not Mother, or Grandmother. Just Freddie.
Then she asked me if I loved my brother.
“Luke is a damn bully,” I said.
I remember I was staring at the pink marble of the grand old staircase as we walked up together. There were black veins running through it, and they looked like the blue varicose veins on Freddie’s white legs. I remember thinking that the staircase must be getting old, like her.
“Don’t say damn, Violet.”
“You say damn.” And she did, too. All the time. “Luke pushed me down this damn staircase once,” I said, still looking at the marble steps. The fall didn’t kill me, if that’s what he’d wanted, but I knocked out two teeth and got a gash in my forehead that bled like hell. “I don’t love my brother,” I said. “And I don’t care what the Devil thinks about it. It’s the truth.”
Freddie gave me a sharp look then, her Dutch eyes a bright, bright blue despite her age. She had given me those blue eyes, and her blond hair as well.
Freddie put her wrinkled hands on mine. “There’s truths and then there’s truths, Violet. And some damn truths shouldn’t be spoken out loud, or the Devil will hear, and then he’ll come for you. Amen.”
When Freddie was young, she used to wear fur and attend parties and drink cocktails and sponsor artists. She’d told me wild stories, full of booze and broads and boys and trouble.
But something happened. Something Freddie never talked about. Something bad. Lots of people have bad stories, and if they wail and sob and tell their story to anyone who’ll listen, it’s crap. Or half crap, at least. The stuff that really hurts people, the stuff that almost breaks them . . . that they won’t talk about. Ever.
I caught Freddie writing sometimes, late at night, fast and hard—so hard, I heard the paper tearing underneath her pen . . . but whether it was a diary or letters to friends, I didn’t know.
Maybe it was her daughter drowning so young that made my grandmother turn righteous and religious. Maybe it was something else. Whatever had happened, Freddie went looking to fill the hole that was left. And what she found was God. God, and the Devil. Because one didn’t exist without the other.
Freddie talked about the Devil all the time, almost as if he was her best friend, or an old lover. But for all her Devil talk, I never saw Freddie pray.
I prayed, though.
To Freddie. After she died. I’d done it so often over the past five years that it had become unconscious, like blowing on soup when it’s too hot. I prayed to Freddie about my parents being gone. And about the money running out. And being so lonely sometimes that the damn sea wind howling through my window felt closer to me than the brother I had upstairs.
And I prayed to Freddie about the Devil. I asked her to keep my hand out of his. I asked her to keep me safe from evil.
But, for all my praying, the Devil still found me.
Chapter 2
I lived with my twin brother, Luke. And that’s it. We were only seventeen, and it was illegal to be living alone, but no one did anything about it.
Our parents were artists. John and Joelie Iris White. Painters. They loved us, but they loved art more. They’d gone to Europe last fall, looking for muses in cafés and castles . . . and blowing through the last bit of the family wealth. I hoped they would come home soon, if for no other reason than I wanted there to be enough money left for me to go to a good university. Someplace pretty, with green lawns, and white columns, and cavernous libraries, and professors with elbow patches.
But I wasn’t counting on it.
My great-grandparents had been East Coast industrialists, and they made loads of cash when they were really damn young. They invested in railroads and manufacturing—things that everyone was excited about back then. And they handed down all the money to a grandpa I never got to meet.
Freddie and my grandfather had been about the richest people in Echo in their day, as much as being the “est” of anything in Echo mattered. Freddie told me the Glenships had been wealthier, but rich was rich, in my mind. Grandpa built a big house right on the edge of a cliff above the crashing waves. He married my wild grandmother, and brought her to live with him and have his babies on the edge of the Atlantic.
Our home was dignified and elegant and great and beautiful.
And also wind-bitten and salt-stained and overgrown and neglected—like an aging ballerina who looked young and supple from far away, but up close had gray at her temples and lines by her eyes and a scar on one cheek.
Freddie called our house Citizen Kane, after the old film with its perfectly framed shots and Orson Welles strutting around and talking in a deep voice. But I thought it was a depressing movie, mostly. Hopeless. Besides, the house was built in 1929, and Citizen Kane didn’t come out until 1941, which meant that Freddie took years to think of a name. Maybe she saw the movie and it meant something to her. I don’t know. No one really knew why Freddie did anything, most of the time. Not even me.
Freddie and my grandfather lived in the Citizen until they died. And after our parents went to Europe, I moved into Freddie’s old bedroom on the second floor. I left everything the way it was. I didn’t even take her dresses out of the walk-in closet.
I loved my bedroom . . . the vanity with the warped mirror, the squat chairs without armrests, the elaborate, oriental dressing screen. I loved curving my body into the velvet sofa, books piled at my feet, the dusty, floor-length curtains pushed back from the windows so I could see the sky. At night the purple-fringed lampshades turned the light a hue somewhere between lilac and dusky plum.
Luke’s bedroom was on the third floor. And I think we both liked having the space between us.
That summer, Luke and I finally ran out of the money our parents had given us when they’d left for Europe all those months ago. Citizen Kane needed a new roof because the ocean wind beat the hell out it, and Luke and I needed food. So I had the brilliant idea to rent out the guesthouse. Yes, the Citizen had a guesthouse, left over from the days when Freddie sponsored starving artists. They would move in for a few months, paint her, and then move on to the next town, the next wealthy person, the next gin bottle.
I put up posters in Echo, advertising a guesthouse for rent, and thought nothing would come of it.
But something did.
It was an early June day with a balmy breeze that felt like summer slapping spring. The salt from the sea was thick in the air. I sat on the fat front steps, facing the road that ran along the great big blue. Two stone columns framed the large front door, and the steps spilled down between them. From where I sat, our tangled, forgotten lawn sprawled out to the unpaved road. Beyond it was a sheer drop, ending in pounding waves.
So I was sitting there, taking turns reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short stories and watching the sky blurring into the far-off waves, when a new-old car turned up my road, went past Sunshine’s house, and pulled into my circular driveway. I say old, because it was from the 1950s, all big and pretty and looking like really bad gas mileage, but it was fixed up as if it was fresh-off-the-block new, and shiny as a kid’s face on Christmas.
The car came to a stop. A boy got out. He was about the same age as me, but still, I couldn’t really call him a man. So yeah, a boy. A boy got out of the car, and looked straight at me as if I had called out his name.
But I hadn’t. He didn’t know me. And I didn’t know him. He was not tall—less than six feet, maybe—and he was strong, and lean. He had thick, dark brown hair, which was wavy and parted at the side . . . until the sea wind lifted it and blew it across his forehead and tangled it all up. I liked his face on sight. And his tan, been-in-the-summer-sun-every-day skin. And his brown eyes.
He looked at me, and I looked back.
“Are you Violet?” he asked, and didn’t wait for my answer. “Yeah, I think you are. I’m River. River West.” He swept his hand through the air in front of him. “And this must be Citizen Kane.”
He was looking at my house, so I tilted my head and looked at my house too. In my memory, it was gleaming white stone columns and robin’s egg blue trim around the big square windows, and manicured shrubbery and tastefully nude statues in the center of the front fountain. But the fountain I saw now was mossy and dirty, with one nose, one breast, and three fingers broken and missing from its poor, undressed girls. The bright blue paint had turned gray and was chipping off the frames. The shrubbery was a feral, eight-foot-tall jungle.
I wasn’t embarrassed by the Citizen, because it was still a damn amazing house, but now I wondered if I should have trimmed the bushes down, maybe. Or scrubbed up the naked fountain girls. Or re-painted the window frames.
“It’s kind of a big place for one blond-haired, book-reading girl,” the boy in front of me said, after a long minute of house-looking from the both of us. “Are you alone? Or are your parents around here somewhere?”
I shut my book and got to my feet. “My parents are in Europe.” I paused. “Where are your parents?”
He smiled. “Touché.”
Our town was small enough that I never developed a healthy fear of strangers. To me, they were exciting things, gift-wrapped and full of possibilities, the sweet smell of somewhere else wafting from them like perfume. And so River West, stranger, didn’t stir in me any sort of fear . . . only a rush of excitement, like how I felt right before a really big storm hit, when the air crackled with expectation.
I smiled back. “I live here with my twin brother, Luke. He keeps to the third floor, mostly. When I’m lucky.” I glanced up, but the third-floor windows were blocked by the portico roof. I looked back at the boy. “So how did you know my name?”
“I saw it on the posters in town, stupid,” River said, and smiled. “Guesthouse for rent. See Violet at Citizen Kane. I asked around and some locals directed me here.”
He didn’t say “stupid” like how Luke said it, blinking at me with narrow eyes and a condescending smile. River said it like it was an . . . endearment. Which threw me, sort of. I slipped the sandal off my right foot and tapped my toes on the stone step, making my yellow skirt swing against my knees. “So . . . you want to rent the guesthouse?”
“Yep.” River put an elbow out and leaned onto his shiny car. He wore black linen pants—the kind I thought only stubble-jawed Spanish men wore in European movies set by the sea—and a white button-down shirt. It might have looked strange on someone else. But it suited him all right.
“Okay. I need the first month’s rent in cash.”
He nodded and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a leather wallet and opened it. There was a thick stack of green inside it. So thick that, after he counted out the money he needed, he could barely close the wallet again. River West walked up to me, grabbed my hand, and pressed five hundred dollars into my palm.
“Don’t you even want to see the place first?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the green paper. I let my fingers close down on it, tight.
“No.”
I grinned. River grinned back at me, and I noticed that his nose was straight and his mouth was crooked. I liked it. I watched him swagger, yes swagger, with panther hips, over to the trunk of his car, where he pulled out a couple of old-fashioned suitcases, the kind with buckles and straps instead of zippers. I slipped my sandal back onto my right foot and started down the narrow, overgrown path through the bushes, past all the ivy-covered windows, past the plain wooden garage, to the back of Citizen Kane.
I looked behind me, just once. He was following.
I led him beyond the crumbling tennis court and the old greenhouse. They looked worse every time I saw them. Things had gone to hell since Freddie died, and it wasn’t just about our lack of cash. Freddie had kept things up without money somehow. She’d been tireless, fixing things all on her own, teaching herself rudimentary plumbing and carpentry, dusting, sweeping, cleaning, day in day out. But not us. We did nothing. Nothing but paint. Canvases, that is, not walls or fences or window frames.
Dad said that kind of painting was for Tom Sawyer and other unwashed orphans. I hadn’t been sure if he was kidding. Probably not.
The tennis court had bright green grass breaking through the cement floor, and the nets were crumpled on the ground and covered with leaves. Who had last played tennis there? I couldn’t remember. The greenhouse’s glass roof had caved in too—broken shards were still on the ground, and exotic plants in shades of blue and green and white grew up the building’s beams and stretched out into the sky. I used to go there to read sometimes. I had many secret reading spots around the Citizen. They’d been painting spots, back before I’d quit painting.
We slowed as we neared the guesthouse. It was a two-bedroom red brick building covered in ivy, like everything else. It had decent plumbing and twitchy electricity, and it stood at a right angle to the Citizen. If the ocean was a mouth, then the Citizen would be the wide white nose; the guesthouse, the right eye; the ratty old maze, the left eye; and the tennis courts and the greenhouse two moles high on the right cheekbone.
We both went inside and looked around. It was dusty, but it was also cozy and sort of sweet. It had a wide-open kitchen, and chipped teacups in yellow cupboards, and church bazaar patchwork blankets on art deco furniture, and no phone.
Luke and I had run out of money to pay the phone bill months ago, so we didn’t have a working phone at the Citizen, either. Which is why I hadn’t put a phone number on the poster.
I couldn’t remember the last person who had stayed in the guesthouse. Some bohemian friends of my parents, long ago. There were dried-out tubes of oil paint lying on windowsills and paintbrushes still in the sink, where they’d been rinsed and then forgotten about. My parents had a studio on the other side of the maze, called the shed, and had always done their art things in there. It was full of half-finished canvases, and it smelled of turpentine—a smell I found both comforting and irritating.
I grabbed the paintbrushes as I walked by, planning to throw them out, but the bristles that hit my palm were damp. So they didn’t belong to old friends of my parents. They’d been used recently.
I noticed River watching me. He didn’t say anything. I set the brushes back down where I’d found them and walked into the main bedroom, moving back so River could throw his suitcases on the bed. I had always liked this room, with the red walls faded almost to pink, and the yellow-and-white-striped curtains. River glanced around and took everything in with his fast brown eyes. He went to the dresser, opened the top drawer, looked in it, and closed it again. He moved to the other side of the room, pushed back the curtains, and opened the two windows to the sea.
A burst of bright, salty ocean air flooded in, and I breathed deep. So did River, his chest flaring out so I could see his ribs press against his shirt.
The guesthouse was farther away from the ocean than the Citizen, but you could still see a thick line of blue-blue-blue through the window. I noticed some big ship, far off on the horizon, and wondered where it was going to, or coming from. Usually, I wanted to be on those ships, sailing away to some place cold and exotic. But that itchy, gypsy feeling wasn’t in me right then.
River went over to the bed, reached up, and took down the black wooden cross that hung above the pillows. He brought it to the dresser, opened the top drawer, set the cross inside, and bumped it closed with his hip.
“My grandfather built Citizen Kane,” I said, “but my grandma Freddie built this cottage. She got religious later on in life.” My eyes were fixed on the dark red shape left on the wall, where the cross had shielded the paint from the fading effects of sunshine. “She probably hung that cross up there decades ago and it’s been there ever since. Are you an atheist? Is that why you took it down? I’m curious. Hence the question.”
I flinched. Hence? My habit of reading more than I socialized made me use odd, awkward words without thinking.
River didn’t seem to notice. And by that, I mean he seemed to be noticing everything about me, and everything about the room, so that I couldn’t tell if he noticed my use of hence more than anything else.
“No, I’m not an atheist. I’m just somebody who doesn’t like to sleep with a cross over his head.” He looked at me again. “So, what are you . . . seventeen?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Good guess. Because my brother says I still look about twelve.”
“We’re the same age, then.” A pause. “My parents went down to South America a few weeks ago. They’re archeologists. They sent me here in the meantime. I have an uncle who lives in Echo. But I didn’t want to stay with him. So I found your poster and here I am. Sort of strange that both our parents took off and left us, don’t you think?”
I nodded. I wanted to ask him who his uncle was. I wanted to ask him where he came from, and how long he was going to stay in my guesthouse. But he stood there and looked at me in such a way and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“So where’s this brother of yours?” River brought his fingers up to his hair and gave it a good shake. I stared at him, and his tousled hair, until he stared back at me. And then I stopped.
“He’s in town. You’ll have to meet him later. And I wouldn’t get too excited. He’s not as nice as me.” Luke had walked into Echo after breakfast, intending to track down this girl he knew, and try to grope her in broad daylight at the café where she worked.
I pointed out the window. “If you want to walk into town to get groceries, there’s a path that starts back by the apple trees, behind the maze. It hooks up with the old railroad trail and leads right onto the main street. I mean, you can drive if you want to, because you have a car, but the path is really nice if you like walking. It goes by this old train tunnel . . .”
I started to back out of the bedroom. I was beginning to feel stupid, talking on and on like some dumb girl who opens her mouth and lets all her thoughts fall out of it. And feeling stupid made my cheeks blush. And I had no doubt that this observant boy next to me would observe my cheeks turning red, and probably guess why.
“Oh, and there’s no lock on the front door,” I continued as I sunk into the welcoming semi-darkness of the hallway and put my hands to my face. “You can get one at the hardware store if you want, but no one will steal anything from here.” I paused. “At least, no one ever has.”
I turned and left without waiting for his reply. I walked out of the guesthouse, past the collapsed greenhouse, past the tennis courts, around the Citizen, down the driveway, down the narrow gravel road to the only other house on my street: Sunshine’s.
I had to tell someone that a panther-hipped boy had come to live in my backyard.
Product details
- ASIN : B09QJH4Y8C
- Publication date : January 15, 2022
- Language : English
- File size : 1169 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Print length : 386 pages
- Page numbers source ISBN : 0142423211
- Best Sellers Rank: #699,829 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
April Genevieve Tucholke is the bestselling author of Merry and Hark, A Christmas Story (Algonquin), The Secret Life of Hidden Places (Workman 2024), Beatrice Likes the Dark (Algonquin), Seven Endless Forests (FSG), The Boneless Mercies (FSG), Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (Penguin), and Wink Poppy Midnight (Penguin). Her books have been published in sixteen countries, and have received ten starred reviews. They have been selected for the Junior Library Guild, Kids' Indie Next, and YALSA Teens Top Ten. Tucholke currently lives in Savannah, Georgia. She loves coffee, forests, and Gothic cities.
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the story intriguing and enjoyable. They appreciate the writing style as poetic and beautiful. The characters are interesting, likable, and charming. The imagery is described as lovely and unique. Overall, customers find the book dark and captivating.
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Customers enjoy the story's quality. They find it haunting, enchanting, and intriguing with an interesting premises and creepy stories that give you chills. The cover is described as gorgeous and haunting, and the book has an outstanding storyline that keeps readers hooked until the end.
"...wait to see where APril Genevieve Tucholke takes this riveting, horrifying story. Phenomenal...Just phenomenal..... &#..." Read more
"This was a hauntingly romantic story with dramatic characters and a rich atmosphere that just adds to its Gothic storyline...." Read more
"...Overall, "Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" is a hauntingly enchanting story, with a rich, gothic atmosphere, a quirky, likable heroine, and..." Read more
"...the girl who lives in a huge, decaying mansion, and creepy stories to give you chills. I can't get over how wonderfully the setting was built...." Read more
Customers enjoy the book. They find it thrilling and engaging, with compelling characters and a good story that keeps them hooked. The author's writing style is well-received.
"...This is one of the most phenomenal books that I have read this year. Everything about it had me totally consumed until the last page...." Read more
"...Between The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea is a great novel that is bound to become a classic...." Read more
"...I definitely recommend this novel for anyone looking for a thrilling read, and I can't wait to see how things develop in the sequel!..." Read more
"...Sometimes books are so good you read them as fast as you can, gobbling them up like your favorite junk food...." Read more
Customers enjoy the writing style. They find the prose poetic and compelling. The story is described as descriptive, creative, and a masterpiece.
"Ok I dont even know where to begin with this review. This is one of the most phenomenal books that I have read this year...." Read more
"...In fact, 'intriguing' is the perfect word to describe April Genevieve Tucholke's debut novel "Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea"--there could..." Read more
"...The story was written beautifully, but I wasn't all too fond of the characters...." Read more
"...But April did a great job at creating these creative and colorful individuals!..." Read more
Customers find the characters interesting and likable. They appreciate the colorful names like Violet and Sunshine. The heroine is described as quirky and charming.
"...With its timeless characters and darkly rich scenery, April Genevieve Tucholke is a master storyteller and I can't wait to see what she creates next." Read more
"...Despite this, she never struck me as weird. Instead, Violet is an endearing heroine who's strong, compassionate, and has the ability to see ordinary..." Read more
"...was absolutely gorgeous. The beautiful boy with a dangerous and addictive power, the girl who lives in a huge, decaying mansion, and creepy stories..." Read more
"...able to appreciate horrifyingly beautiful places, some mystery, unique characters, and a bit of holding the devil's hand, then you should definitely..." Read more
Customers enjoy the book's beauty. They find it lovely and unique, with a gorgeous turn of phrase. The author weaves a dark, seductive, creepy story in a way that is captivating. They appreciate the beautiful imagery of a coastal town, characters with brightly colorful names, and the gothic atmosphere. The writing is described as wonderful and the cover is awesome.
"...April Tucholke weaves a dark, seductive, creepy story in a way that holds the readers attention until the last page...." Read more
"...With its timeless characters and darkly rich scenery, April Genevieve Tucholke is a master storyteller and I can't wait to see what she creates next." Read more
"...a little more magical, something which can be seen in the subtly beautiful descriptions of Citizen Kane, the grand estate she and her twin brother,..." Read more
"...was absolutely gorgeous...." Read more
Customers enjoy the book's dark and twisted story. They find it relatable and captivating, with an intriguing contrast between innocence and darkness. The writing is described as well-crafted and engaging, with elements like dark tunnels, mysterious roads, and a town that seems familiar.
"...The story that April wrote is just so mysterious and dark and consuming that you don't want to put this book down!..." Read more
"...the purplish prose and the use of repetition and the juxtaposition of innocence with darkness. 5 stars for the writing...." Read more
"...gothic mansions, cemeteries, small-everyone-knows-everyone town, dark tunnels, mysterious roads etc. I also enjoyed River for the most part...." Read more
"...Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea was the perfect title for a dark and creepy story set in the small sleepy seaside town of Echo with Violet's..." Read more
Customers have different views on the book's intelligence. Some find the concept great and the writing brilliant, offering insight into what's going on. Others feel the plot is strange and not impressive, with flat characters and hardly developed ideas.
"...He was so charming, smart and everyone automatically liked him on sight. But that was his downfall...." Read more
"...The writing - brilliant! Despite the icky subject material, I couldn't stop reading...." Read more
"...and book smugness if she wasn't so damn silly, reckless and downright stupid when it came to life and death situation...." Read more
"...In the end, I feel indifferent. I liked the overall concept...." Read more
Customers have mixed opinions about the pacing. Some found it excellent and engaging, keeping them reading until the end. Others felt the characters were silly, reckless, and downright stupid. The story felt forced, clichéd, and upsetting at times.
"...Take it for what it is, but I'm starting to find it annoying, childish and upsetting. OVERALL:..." Read more
"...The pacing was excellent and the characters enigmatic and compelling. I was very pleased with how the story went. I cant wait to read the next book!" Read more
"...but superficial intelligence and book smugness if she wasn't so damn silly, reckless and downright stupid when it came to life and death situation...." Read more
"Good book. Hooked me quickly and kept me reading." Read more
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Five Stars
Top reviews from the United States
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- Reviewed in the United States on January 31, 2014Ok I dont even know where to begin with this review. This is one of the most phenomenal books that I have read this year. Everything about it had me totally consumed until the last page.
The cover is just breathtaking. The font of the title just jumps out at you. The two people standing on the edge of the cliff with the darkness behind them is just....amazing. This is most defintely one of my most favorite covers of this year!!
I read the synposis of this book and was just in awe. April Tucholke weaves a dark, seductive, creepy story in a way that holds the readers attention until the last page. The descriptions writtin in this book of the scenery makes you feel as though you are right there on the side of the cliff experiencing every horrific moment with them.
Even the main characters names: Violet and River....Those names were so perfectly placed in this story. There is just something about their names that grab you and bring you into this story. There is so much mystery and intensity in this novel.
"You stop fearing the Devil when you're holding his hand."
Violet meets River, a mysterious young boy who has rented her grandmother's cottage that is beside her mansion on the cliff. Violet is immediately drawn to River and introduces him to her friends. This is where it all begins. There is so much horror and mystery in this novel and I was completeyl consumed with it. Breathtaking is the only word that best fits this novel.
April Genevieve Tucholke is an author that should be on your "to follow list" because she is phenomenal. She is a debut author that breaks into all the parts of the horror genre that you never knew were there....The history and descriptions that she uses in her writing is spot on. There is so much about this book that is incredible from the stories about The Devil that her grandmother told her to the family secrets that have been hidden away for too long.....
I am telling you...I cannot rave enough about this book...I will wait on pins and needles until I can get my hands on the sequel. I absolutely cant wait to see where APril Genevieve Tucholke takes this riveting, horrifying story. Phenomenal...Just phenomenal.....
"The dead are all around us, Freddie used to say. So don't you go being afraid of the dead, Violet, And if you arent afraid of the dead, then you aren't afraid of dying. And if you aren't afraid of dying, then the only damn thing you have to be afraid of is the Devil. And that is the way it should be...."
- Reviewed in the United States on August 15, 2013This was a hauntingly romantic story with dramatic characters and a rich atmosphere that just adds to its Gothic storyline. Violet and her brother, Luke, are living on their own ever since their parents left to study art in Paris. To make ends meet, Violet rents out the cottage behind their home to the mysterious and charming River West. Violet and River start spending a lot of time with one another and Violet soon begins to develop feelings for this handsome young man. Around the time of River's arrival in town, strange events occur around Violet and her friends, which leads her to believe that River may have ulterior motives for being there. Is River a victim of circumstance or is he behind all the mysterious occurrences?
River was definitely a bad boy, someone who you know will break your heart but you can't help falling in love with him anyways. He was so charming, smart and everyone automatically liked him on sight. But that was his downfall. If someone seems to be too good to be true, they usually are and I always felt that River was hiding something from Violet throughout the course of the book.
Violet was such a sweet girl and I connected with her from the very beginning. She was trying to keep everything together with her parents and her beloved grandmother gone, and she had this inner strength that you usually don't see with girls that age. Even though she was a smart young girl, she still had this innocence about her, especially when it came to boys and relationships. Watching Violet fall in love for the first time brought back memories because that first love is always bittersweet and even though she believes that River may be responsible for the mysterious events plaguing the town, she can't help falling for him.
Between The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea is a great novel that is bound to become a classic. With its timeless characters and darkly rich scenery, April Genevieve Tucholke is a master storyteller and I can't wait to see what she creates next.
Top reviews from other countries
- Miss HyattReviewed in the United Kingdom on January 21, 2022
5.0 out of 5 stars I love this book
My favourite book. The cover is amazing. I just love it
Miss Hyatt
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on January 21, 2022
Images in this review - Amazon CustomerReviewed in Canada on January 2, 2020
5.0 out of 5 stars Great!
Thank you!
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Kindle-KundeReviewed in Germany on September 1, 2014
5.0 out of 5 stars Tolles und mysteriöses Buch
Die Autorin hat einen sehr eigenen träumerischen und mysteriösen Schreibstil, der mir sehr gefällt!
Ich habe gleich das zweite Buch bestellt! Sehr empfehlenswert.
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Elisa BotarelliReviewed in Italy on July 15, 2014
4.0 out of 5 stars fiaba gotica
Ricco di atmosfera con bellissime descrizioni dei luoghi e personaggi ambigui ed interessanti non sai se affezionati o condannarli.consigliato per l'estate
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Zeit zu LesenReviewed in Germany on August 1, 2015
3.0 out of 5 stars Solide & spannend - kurzweilge Unterhaltung mit Potenzial zu mehr
Das Buch von April Genevieve Tucholke zu bewerten, fällt mir nicht ganz so leicht, da ich mir den Inhalt ursprünglich etwas anders vorgestellt hatte. Statt einer klassischen YA-Fantasy Lektüre entpuppte sich “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea“ mehr zu einem Thriller mit Grusel-Elementen frei nach Stephen King.
Worum geht es in dem Buch?
Violet und ihr Bruder Luke verbringen die Sommerferien vor ihrem letzten Schuljahr in den beschaulichen Örtchen Echo. Ihre Eltern, beides passionierte Maler, verweilen unterdessen auf Grund künstlerischer Aspekte für einige Zeit in Europa (Paris im Speziellen).
Obwohl die Geschwister aus einer ursprünglich wohlhabenden Familie stammen, nehmen beschließen sie in den Sommerferien einen Untermieter aufzunehmen, um ihre klamme Kasse etwas aufzubessern. Das flatterhafte Künstlerleben ihrer Eltern hat das einstige Familienvermögen zusammenschrumpfen lassen. So geschieht es, dass sie ihr Gästehaus an den gutaussehenden Jungen River vermieten.
Doch kaum ist River eingezogen, kommt es zu lauter merkwürdigen Zwischenfällen. Welchen Anteil River daran hat, der längst nicht so liebenswert und unschuldig ist, wie es für Violet den Anschein hat, das wird dem Leser dann auch schnell klar.
Meine Eindruck:
Erzählt wird die Geschichte aus Sicht der Protagonistin Violet, deren starke Gefühle für den eigentlich fremden River schnell deutlich werden und somit die gesamte Geschichte prägen. Diese stellen – meiner Meinung nach – auch den Scherpunkt des Konzeptes dar, da die Gefühle eindeutig Violet‘s Sichtweise einschränken. … Denn River ist alles andere als unschuldig und hat weit mehr als ein Leben auf dem Gewissen. Doch Violets rosa-roter Blick will dies nicht wahrhaben, auch nicht, als der Horror in seiner ganzen Pracht eskaliert. Als Leser hatte ich die ganze Zeit das Bedürfnis sie an den Schulter zu packen und zu schütteln ... Wach auf, Mädchen!
Insgesamt erinnert mich die Erzählart und die Art des Story-Aufbaus sehr stark an Stephen King. Die Handlung, die Idee zu der Geschichte, könnte gut auch seiner (früheren) Feder entsprungen sein
Fazit: von mir bekommt das Buch leider nur 3,5 Sterne – auf Grund mangelnder Glaubwürdigkeit und Authentizität. Denn im Gegensatz zu Stephen King gelingt es April G. Tucholke leider nicht, mit ihren holzschnitzartigen Figuren und teilweise vorhersehbaren Szenen, den Grusel-Effekt des Meisters einzufangen.
Das Buch ist “nice-to-read“ und auf Grund seiner einfachen Erzählstruktur auch schnell durchgelesen. Es ist unterhaltsam und bietet noch immer genügend Spannung für einen gemütlichen Leseabend, die Grundidee des Buches gefällt mir sehr gut - allein die Umsetzung könnte ausgereifter sein.