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17 February 2025
Teen Librarian

Death At Morning House by Maureen Johnson

Death at Morning House by Maureen Johnson
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Death at Morning House chronicles the events of a summer where everything possible goes wrong for Marlowe Wexler.

Marlowe by no means deserves this; she's just a normal high schooler whose only weaknesses are pretty girls and caramel-embellished ice cream. Unfortunately, in her determination to make a perfect date happen for what she thinks is her one and only chance with her crush, Akilah, she manages to accidentally set a house on fire. From there, she sinks into a swamp of guilt & embarrassment until she's granted a chance to get out of the small town where everyone knows about the fire. She's offered a summer job as a tour guide in an old mansion on what was once the private island of a 1930s millionaire, up in the Thousand Islands. Ralston Island appears to be an eccentric's palace, breathtaking and deeply dull, full of nothing but old artifacts of rich-people banality. And to top it off, the island is due to get converted to a hotel once the summer's over. But Ralston Island is only as boring as the other tour guides- at least one of whom has a horrifying secret- and the more Marlowe learns, the more horrified she grows. Because everyone has their little secrets, but the Ralston secrets were different.
This book is superficially about things like fire and Scooby-Doo old houses & creepy tobacco millionaires & solving mysteries and whatnot. None of those things are actually at the heart of Death at Morning House. The book is really about teenagers; teenagers as the world sees them, teenagers as they see themselves, and teenagers as they really are. Teenagers as screwups, experiments, prodigies, and potentials; teenagers as parts of their families & teenagers alone. Teenagers as lovesick snarky dorks who need a fresh start. Teenagers as monsters. There's a lot under people's surfaces, and there's a lot buried just under the soil of Ralston island, a place that's haunted not by the ghosts of the ones who died there, but the actions of the ones who lived there.
Marlowe is a direct, snarky narrator who feels less like an agent of the narrative, but a direct, personal tour guide- and not one particularly interested in convincing you to stop at the gift shop or buy a tacky souvenir magnet. She describes the smells, textures, sights, & metaphorical ghosts in elegantly calculated detail, without dwelling too long or screwing up the pacing of the novel. Best read in dim lighting with a quieter rock & roll album playing.
Reviewed by Rosemary M., Libbie Mill
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