The Barrett family is falling apart. John is unemployed. His wife Sarah is barely holding things together. Their fourteen year old daughter Marjorie is either schizophrenic or possessed, depending on who you ask.
Desperate for money, the family agrees to let a production crew film a reality TV show inside their home, documenting Marjorie’s decline for a national audience. Fifteen years later, Marjorie’s younger sister Merry tells her side of what really happened.
Or at least, what she remembers happening.
Publishing year:Â 2015
Page count:Â 320
The Reading Experience
I’ll be honest: the first few chapters had me worried. This book starts off slow. I mean really slow. Tremblay takes his time setting up the family dynamic, the financial pressure, and the creeping unease in the house. I wasn’t sure if it was going to be my thing. But then, somewhere around chapter four or five, the story found its rhythm, and from that point on it just kept going. What kept me going in those early chapters were the characters.
I was really drawn to them. Merry, the eight-year-old narrator looking back as an adult, is the heart of the whole thing. Her childish perspective is mixed so naturally with the adult reflection that you never feel like the voice is fake or forced. I totally believed her. That’s an issue because I’m still on the fence about whether I should. That’s the whole point.
And then there’s Marjorie herself. She’s a real piece of work. One minute I was actually scared of her, the next I just felt bad for her. Tremblay always keeps you guessing. Is she possessed? Is she mentally ill? Is she performing for the cameras? All three? None of the above? I finished this book weeks ago and I’m still scratching my head.
That uncertainty around Marjorie feeds right into the atmosphere. The house feels smaller and smaller with every chapter. The reality show crew brings a lot of gear into already cramped spaces: cameras, lights, cables, the works, and the whole thing starts to feel a lot like a pressure cooker. Tremblay doesn’t need cheap jump scares to get under your skin. He just keeps turning the screw, slowly, until you realize you’ve been holding your breath for the last three pages.
Part of what makes the atmosphere so effective is Tremblay’s writing. It’s clean, precise, and has a sharp ear for dialogue and an even sharper one for how an eight-year-old sees the world. The blog posts mixed in with the chapters are a clever play on fiction. They break down each episode of the TV show from a horror fan’s perspective, and they add a whole extra layer to the story that reminded me of why I love this genre.
Those blog posts in particular tie directly into how the plot unfolds. Three different stories (Merry’s memories, the blog analysis, and conversations with the author writing a book about the case) all fit perfectly together, and they give us new information a little bit at a time. Tremblay keeps the main question, possession or schizophrenia, unresolved on purpose, and he trusts you to deal with the uncertainty. No matter how you interpret it, the book’s internal logic holds up, which is where its real genius lies. Even the ending doesn’t give a simple answer, and I gotta say, I respect that.
I was rooting for Merry. I was terrified of Marjorie. I felt bad for both of them. I never felt like the book was manipulating me unfairly. Every character decision, every family argument, every small betrayal made sense. It didn’t feel forced or unearned, which is rare in a horror novel that also critiques reality TV, religion, and how we consume other people’s trauma for entertainment.
Summary
A Head Full of Ghosts is one of the smartest horror novels I’ve read in a long time. It works as a possession story, it works as a psychological drama about a family in freefall, and it works as a sharp look at how the media uses tragedy for ratings. The slow start might test your patience, but once the story grabs hold, it doesn’t let go. The ambiguity is the point. The dread is earned. You’ll definitely be thinking about the ending long after you put the book down.
Read it if:Â You’re into horror that respects your intelligence, then this one’s for you. You’re into unreliable narrators, metafiction, and stories that don’t fully resolve their central mystery. You think The Haunting of Hill House is a masterpiece and want something that scratches the same itch in a modern way.Â
Skip it if:Â You need all the answers by the last page. You’re into fast-paced horror that hits hard from the start. Ambiguity frustrates you. Or if the themes of child exploitation and mental illness are too personal.
Content Warning
- Mental illness (schizophrenia) as a central theme
- Psychological child abuse and neglect
- Body horror and self harm
- Religious delusion and exorcism themes
- Exploitation of minors by media
- Death of a family member
Related Reviews
If you enjoy horror that blurs the line between psychological breakdown and supernatural threat, check out my review of Hell House by Richard Matheson. Same creeping dread, same unreliable house, different decade. Tremblay clearly studied Jackson and Matheson before writing this, and it shows in the best possible way.
