‘One need not be a chamber to be haunted; One need not be a house,’ wrote the poet Emily Dickinson, ‘the brain has corridors surpassing Material place‘One need not be a chamber to be haunted; One need not be a house,’ wrote the poet Emily Dickinson, ‘the brain has corridors surpassing Material place.’ Sometimes the most sinister spectors are the ones that stalk our own thoughts, casting shadows to transform everyday reality in anxious shades. Such are the concerns in Jenna Clake’s unsettling debut novel, Disturbance, where the unnamed narrator finds the past doesn’t always stay dead. Befriending her teenage neighbor in hopes of freeing her from the abusive trap she sees in the younger girl’s off-and-on-again relationship with a boy who treats her cruelly, the narrator and teenager play at witchcraft to ward off their respective former boyfriends. But instead of expelling him, she is assailed by constant memories of his abuse to the point where her flat itself seems out to get her. Clake’s work as a poet is evident in the way she infuses such emotion and fluidity into her prose that spirals us through this chilling portrait of an abuse survivor. Perhaps the most disturbing aspects of Disturbance is the way it navigates the course of both emotional abuse and all the horrific manipulation, gaslighting and isolating that occurs, the kind that doesn’t leave bruises on the skin but can bruise one’s sense of self and emotional state for years to come. It is an important subject to address as 1 in 3 women experience physical violence by a partner during their lifetime with women age 18 to 24 experiencing it most commonly. Disturbance is a story that reads like a poignant cacophony of images and events that illuminate a very real tragedy that afflicts women all over, and Clake handles the story with grace as we hold our breath in the face of ghosts that haunting the mind that are more fearsome than any apparition could ever be.
‘I knew how sinister surprises can be’
While Disturbance is a horror story, it is not one in the way you expect. While there are suspenseful moments of things that go bump in the night and a literal monster central to the story, it is more of a psychological bent and the monster dresses in work clothes and hangs out with his buddies at the bar while texting women who aren’t his girlfriend. This can be a very triggering story with all the focus on emotional and physical abuse by an intimate partner (and, by proxy, this review may be because of that and if this is a concern in your own life, there are international resources for help I encourage you to check out) , but this is a horror story that befalls women everywhere. 55% of all homicides against women are committed by an intimate partner and 89% are committed by men they knew. As is shown in the novel, it is not always easy to leave an abusive situation as the most dangerous time is right after leaving a partner. 75% of domestic violence related homicides occur during a separation and there is a 75% increase of violence for at least two years after the separation. Most distressing is homicide by an abusive intimate partner during a separation increases by 500% if the partner has access to a firearm. Not to be disturbing, just that is an important factor to note not just going into this book but to be aware of in society in general.
I really enjoyed how much this story occurs in the atmosphere of the everyday. An aspect of horror Stephen King excels at is placing terror in situations that should otherwise seem safe in a horror story—like a sunny afternoon or public place—and Clake deftly captures that vibe. Around our narrator is a seemingly idyllic summer (there are mentions of children laughing while playing with hoses and other warm, summery depictions) and I love that there is a subplot threaded through of neighbors renovating a house and being all excited to show the narrator their updates (which touches on the aspects of social media I’ll discuss in a moment), yet we find her hidden inside her small flat physically ill from anxiety and seeing everything around her as threatening. But are the lights flickering due to a supernatural menace or is the bulb simply burning out? We see how there is a very real PTSD from abusive relationships that reconfigure our perceptions on reality and make a person wary of almost anything. Even Eddie, her new friend from work, who is nothing but affable and supportive, gives her fears she has acted poorly in ways that will make him lash out against her. Eddie is such a sweetheart and I adore him, and I especially appreciate that Clake shows how adult men and women can be supportive and caring of each other in ways that aren’t expressly romantic or even need to lead to romance.
‘I felt like I was living in the stomach of some awful creature.’
Central to the story is the narrator’s relationship with Chelsea, the teenage neighbor. When she witnesses Chelsea performing a ritual to ward off her boyfriend during one of the breakups, the narrator decides to investigate witchcraft and try it herself. She falls ill after her attempt and suddenly her living space seems hostile. ‘The flat had a constant aura of an impending visitor,’ she observes and the eerie sounds and flood of memories about her ex-boyfriend makes her ‘worried if he’d died and was haunting me or learned where I lived and cursed the flat.’ But is it witchcraft or are the teen girls she befriends merely playing at witchcraft. I do really love these characters, they feel so real and in their short spaces personify youthful struggles in such an effective way. Chelsea’s boyfriend is indeed a piece of shit but we also have to wonder if the narrator is taking a map of her own abuse and super-imposing it over what she assums is Chelsea’s situation. Iit should be noted, however, that even if a boy isn’t physically violent he can still be abusive and something like trying to make her jealous with other girls or being generally dismissive is not okay either—people can just be bad for you without there having to be any dramatic scar to show.
‘I could right things if I tired. I had the power to do that.’
It is fascinating to watch the narrator try to find empowerment and always feeling it is the wrong fit. She feels ‘too big’ for the chair in the therapist office which is not unlike feeling too old to hang with Chelsea and Jess. But she craves something that will make her feel in control, hence the attraction to the teen girls fixation with witchcraft. ‘She looked powerful, untouchable,’ she thinks about Jess during one of their spell attempts, ‘and I wanted to believe that I would be to if I did this and it worked.’ I think this plays into how there has been a large resurgence of interest in witchcraft: it is symbolic of women’s empowerment but it also an avenue to feel one can have control over the chaos in life. With the religion of past generations one would pray to ask for assistance whereas with witchcraft you feel you are taking matters into your own hands, which makes you feel powerful and I see how this enhances feelings of self worth. Which is especially enticing to someone with unhealthy struggles with self worth. While the magic may not actually work out here, it sort of functions as the narrator’s first attempt to believe in themselves, and that is cool. I also really appreciated the ways Clake makes you unsure for awhile if this is a book where magic will exist or not, something I recently loved about The Last Tale of the Flower Bride and found effectively used again here.
In her memories, we see a narrative of abuse that is sadly altogether too common. He isolates her from her friends by claiming they are mean to him (attacking her for not respecting his past of being bullied when she tries to dispute this), and only allows her to exist in a world he can control with mutual friends who tell her not to hurt him because he is “such a nice guy.” She knows the truth but it is a truth he keeps hidden from the world.
‘I felt as if though I had loved with two people: the boyfriend from before we lived together, and the one who appeared the last box came inside, when the front door was closed.’
He stays out late, accuses her of causing any bad mood, calls her stupid, and makes her feel she is unbearable and that everything is her fault. We also see one of the biggest move in an abuser’s playbook: DARVO, which stands for deny, attack, reverse victim and offender. He portrays their relationship to her in a way that makes her question her every action and feel she wouldn’t be abused (both emotionally and physically) ‘if I just behaved.’ She has no allies in this situation as he navigates every social moment to portray her as unhinged and their friends nod knowingly when they fight as if he is the victim despite her not even knowing why he is attacking her. And amidst all this, she dare not question the barrage of texts from unknown women, because, as as the great Beyonce sang: ‘whats worst, looking jealous or crazy?’ Because society only seems to allow women to be seen as one or the other in the face of a cheating partner.
Another point that should be stressed is this can happen to anyone. It is brushed off in society far too often that it occurs to women who can’t stick up for themselves but this is far from true. I think Trevor Noah said it best when he explained something his mother once said, that abusive men usually don’t ‘[fall] in love with subservient women. He's attracted to independent women. He's like an exotic bird collector, he only wants a woman who is free because his dream is to put her in a cage.’ Not recognizing this is how a lot of abuse slips through the cracks or gets dismissed as attention grabbing or lies. We need to do better.
You begin to see why the narrator is never named: she doesn’t feel she deserves one even in her own narrative. She assesses every situation as if she is the problem, always second guesses herself, always assumes that in every interaction the other person will likely respond angrily because she is incapable of interacting appropriately. And we have to experience the narrative in this way because of the scars from her abusive relationship. Even her biggest breakthrough revelation ‘he wanted to make me feel unstable and I had let him,’ internalizes blame in the second half. She sees that he was abusive but feels ‘I permitted boundaries to be blurred.’ Which, NO, it is not your fault, he made you feel that way. Clake can truly capture this dilemma and it is more unsettling and sad than any goblin or ghastly ghost could do.
‘These exchanges felt rehearsed as though they were replaying scenes from a drama with dialogue that wasn’t real. It was an act that happened many times.’
This is a horror novel without needing to resort to the fantastical because monsters live among us and society often manipulates us into giving them the benefit of the doubt. Society is manipulated by them as well, causing us to give ‘himpathy’ to abusers—a term coined by philosopher Kate Manne to denote the excessive sympathy shown toward male perpetrators of sexual violence, especially at the expense of the women who are their victims. Disturbance is indeed a disturbing tale, one where a haunting occurs but it might be less ghosts in the walls but ghosts in the mind. This is an incredible debut, with writing that hits all its marks and keeps a delicate balance of questioning if the occurances are supernatural or not just as much as the narrator herself wonders. Abuse from intimate partners is a real and horrifying issue, and Clake handles the issue quite effectively while highlighting a story of how this occurs and the terrifying lasting effects from it all. Disturbing but ultimately an engaging novel that will have you gripping the pages with distress, Disturbance hits all the high marks it sets for itself.
s.penkevich
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