RIP - The Sanatorium by Sarah Pearse

The Sanatorium

Sarah Pearse

Copyright 2021

388 Pages

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The Sanatorium by Sarah Pearse was… a letdown. And listen, Reese’s Book Club usually delivers, but this pick? I’m filing it under “Ma’am, respectfully, no.”

I went in craving haunted‑sanatorium‑turned‑luxury‑hotel energy. I wanted ghostly whispers echoing down tiled corridors, abandoned wheelchairs rolling around like they had unfinished business, and a murder so chilling it fogged up the windows. Instead, I got… vibes. Mild vibes. Lukewarm vibes. Vibes that needed a pep talk.

The book tries to give us everything: family trauma, relationship drama, crime, snowstorm isolation, old hospital aesthetics, a missing fiancée, and a detective on leave who probably shouldn’t be left alone with a Sudoku puzzle, let alone a murder case. All the ingredients were technically present — but instead of blending them into a deliciously chaotic thriller smoothie, the story just let them sit in the blender. Unmixed. Lumpy. Sad.

We follow Elin, a detective from England, and her boyfriend Will, an architecture guy who apparently left his emotional support skills at home. They arrive at the Sanatorium to celebrate Elin’s brother’s engagement to Laure. Except Elin and her brother have unresolved childhood trauma, the kind that sits in the corner like an uninvited guest. Before they can even attempt healing, Laure vanishes. Cue the snowstorm. Cue the bodies. Cue the chaos.

And who better to solve the case than Elin? She is a detective. Sure, she’s on leave, but that’s just a tiny administrative detail — barely worth mentioning unless you’re Will, who spends the entire book being aggressively unhelpful. I kept waiting for him to be supportive, or at least stop nagging her, but no. He’s basically a walking “Are you sure you should be doing that?” I nearly climbed into the book myself just to add him to the casualty list.

But back to the plot: it never fully comes together. It’s like the story kept promising a grand, tangled, spooky reveal… and then shrugged. I wanted the threads to twist into something wild. Instead, they just sat there, politely refusing to interact.

So yes, I’m continuing my hunt for a book to kick off spooky season properly. Because this one? This one was not it.