What do you see? What do you hear? What do you feel? What do you remember?
These questions form the basis of perception, something that Clio Louise Barnes grapples with following the death of her estranged mother, Alexandra. Confronted with such loss, Clio and her sisters find themselves at odds with how to handle such a thing. For eldest daughter, Leda, and middle-child, peacemaker Daphne, the past is the past, and the girls’ unstable upbringing should remain there. After all, it did consist of parental fights, divorce, and their mother’s insistence that their house was indeed haunted. Being the youngest of the bunch has left Clio with way more questions than answers, and everyone’s reluctance to talk about what really transpired fuels her curiosity. This inevitably brings Clio to the doorstep of the place she never thought she would return, her mother’s home. Armed with the keys to this house and her mother’s forbidden, tell-all novel, the reality of the situation begins to unfold from the shadows with a ferocity that is ferociously jarring. Was Clio’s mother truly what everyone said, a deranged, mentally-ill woman seeking attention? Or could there be truth behind the fanaticism surrounding Alexandra’s reputation?
To be a horror reader alive during the time of Rachel Harrison is undoubtedly a gift. It is a difficult thing, finding the words that impart the impact of this kind of fiction bestows, the type of prose that is a friendly reminder that this world isn’t so horrific or lonely despite the genre. From werewolves to vampires and now haunted (possessed, if you prefer) houses, every set piece of horror iconography embraced by Harrison has been reimagined to tell emotionally profound stories concerning the female experience. With Play Nice, notions of memory, perception, and normality are questioned amid an emotionally tumultuous backdrop of grief, yearning for answers, and contending with the truth. Not only are these ideas presented within such a unique, relatable light, but Harrison’s storytelling has never been more confident or profound.
This is mostly thanks to the iconic character that is Clio Louise Barnes, a twenty-five year old woman who knows herself even in the face of so much uncertainty. She’s quick, she’s confident, and she’s committed to knowing the truth that so many have brushed aside. Sure, she may make some questionable decisions here or there, but she’s the perfect vessel to share this narrative as a self-assured, witty, and determined woman. Of course, Harrison’s rich character work permeates these pages, creating a sense of familial drama amongst Clio’s siblings that could not read any other than way than terribly real.
While these facets make for an unmistakably entertaining read, the deeper conversation Harrison fosters with Play Nice is where this novel truly wins out. “No one likes a crazy woman.” This is a mantra we’ve all heard time and time again, reiterating the notion that no one knows how to neatly tuck a complicated female individual into a neat, compact box. From the beginning of time looking back to the etymology of the word “hysteria” to now, women who do not conform to the assigned shape they are given by others are always viewed as problematic. This is an idea that’s easily seen in Alexandra’s character, but what Harrison deftly accomplishes with astonishing grace is how the same sentiment applies to every woman within the pages of Play Nice. In fact, Clio’s use of social media and her relationship with influencer culture speaks volumes about how she is perceived, the idea that someone knows of you rather than you, their expectations forged on a ghost.
Social commentary aside, Play Nice is a deeply unsettling novel. Rachel Harrison taps into something intensely nefarious, utilizing settings that are supposed to be the safest, yet feel anything but. This unease transcends the bricks, floorboards, and doors, infiltrating Clio’s family and her social circle. It’s no longer a feeling of a haunted house, a possessed house. No, it’s haunted people, haunted memories tinged with uncertainty and frightful flexibility. Nowhere feels entirely safe from the things left in the dark, the truths that were long buried and forgotten, forging an upsetting atmosphere where the monstrous feels possible. Harrison capitalizes on this intensity to deliver viscerally fearful scenes of unshakable terror. No moment is purely safe within the pages of Play Nice as Clio contends with the devil she knows and the demons she doesn’t.
“Remembering is not always a light shone into darkness. Sometimes it’s a claw reaching out and dragging you back.”
An unapologetic force of horror, Play Nice is the best showcase of Rachel Harrison’s voice within the landscape of modern horror fiction. This is a book that is penned with notable, horrific radiance that stands out in Harrison’s already impressive catalogue. Every aspect is cranked to maximum volume, delivering earnest yet intense confrontations of past and present, truth and illusion. Making way for a horrifically timely examination of expectations and reckonings, Clio Barnes’ story redefines what it means to wrestle with your demons. But, maybe we shouldn’t wrestle with these demons at all. Maybe we should acknowledge them, give them a subtle nod to their existence in the corner and let them be. Maybe we should play nice.
Play Nice by Rachel Harrison releases on September 9th from Berkley Publishing.
