The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

[the_rev]

Really enjoying this. It's like Gosford Park and Groundhog Day mashed together, plus some video game style 'choose your character' body swapping going on, only there is no choice for the main character. The basic plot is that someone is murdered at a remote country estate and the main character has to relive the same day eight times in different "hosts" (people who are in attendance) each day in order to solve the murder and escape the cycle. It's intriguing, it's very well written, it's the sort of setting I love, and there's a creepy guy in a plague doctor costume to round it all out!

DAY ONE

I forget everything between footsteps.

“Anna!” I finish shouting, snapping my mouth shut in surprise.

My mind has gone blank. I don’t know who Anna is or why I’m calling her name. I don’t even know how I got here. I’m stood in a forest, shielding my eyes from the spitting rain. My heart’s thumping, I reek of sweat and my legs are shaking. I must have been running but I can’t remember why.

“How did—” I’m cut short by the sight of my own hands. They’re bony, ugly. A stranger’s hands. I don’t recognize them at all.

Feeling the first touch of panic, I try to recall something else about myself: a family member, my address, age…anything, but nothing’s coming. I don’t even have a name. Every memory I had a few seconds ago is gone.

My throat tightens, breaths coming loud and fast. The forest is spinning, black spots inking my sight.

Be calm.

“I can’t breathe,” I gasp, blood roaring in my ears as I sink to the ground, my fingers digging into the dirt.

You can breathe; you just need to calm down.

There’s comfort in this inner voice, cold authority.

Close your eyes. Listen to the forest. Collect yourself.

Obeying the voice, I squeeze my eyes shut, but all I can hear is my own panicked wheezing. For the longest time it crushes every other sound, but slowly, ever so slowly, I work a hole in my fear, allowing other noises to break through. Raindrops are tapping the leaves, branches rustling overhead.

There’s a stream away to my right and crows in the trees, their wings cracking the air as they take flight. Something’s scurrying in the undergrowth, the thump of rabbit feet passing near enough to touch. One by one, I knit these new memories together until I’ve got five minutes of past to wrap myself in. It’s enough to stanch the panic, at least for now.

The reader (I'm listening to the audio edition because babies) is not my very favorite but he's not bad. This book more than others I wish I could read in text, to better imagine all the different voices, etc., but that's years away, I'm afraid. (Or at least until my next work trip.)