Creepy queer garden fantasy! ✨ARC Review✨

After diving deep into 'Hazelthorn,' I truly couldn't stop thinking about the intricate, almost unsettling relationship between Evander and Laurie. It's not your typical YA dynamic, and that's precisely what makes this queer botanical horror so gripping. From the first mention, you learn that Evander has this intense, almost inexplicable obsession with Laurie, despite the fact that Laurie once tried to kill him. Can you imagine? That alone sets up such a fascinating, dark foundation for their interactions. Byron Lennox-Hall, Evander's reclusive guardian, set up these ironclad rules: never leave the estate, never go into the gardens, and never be left alone with Laurie. Yet, it's that last rule that feels the most potent, fueling Evander's forbidden fascination. You feel his isolation, trapped within the gothic mansion, observing the world, and Laurie, from afar. The tension is palpable even before anything truly happens. When Byron suddenly dies, everything shifts. Evander, who's been a ghost in his own life, suddenly inherits Hazelthorn and all its dark secrets. And who is the only person who can help him figure out who the murderer is, or even survive what's coming next? None other than Laurie. This forced alliance pushes their already volatile dynamic into overdrive. It's a dance between distrust, grudging respect, and that underlying, dark obsession. I found myself constantly questioning Laurie's motives, yet also understanding Evander's desperate need for connection, even if it's with someone so dangerous. The 'hungry garden' itself becomes almost a third character in their twisted saga. As the vines and spores creep deeper into the house, it felt like a metaphor for the way their past and their present circumstances were consuming them. The decay, the rotting wood, the overwhelming ivy – it mirrored the crumbling boundaries between Evander and Laurie, and the constant threat that lurked within Hazelthorn. It’s truly suffocating, this botanical horror, and the garden’s relentless consumption felt like a physical manifestation of the greed and control that defined their world. What I loved most was how their relationship explored themes of bodily autonomy. Evander, having been controlled and isolated for so long, slowly starts to find his own agency, often through or in opposition to Laurie. Their interactions are raw, messy, and far from romantic in a conventional sense, but they are undeniably powerful. It’s about two broken people navigating a deadly inheritance, a killer, and a garden that wants to be fed, all while trying to make sense of their own dark desires and past traumas. The book brilliantly portrays how finding someone to survive with, even if that person is deeply flawed, can become a lifeline. Their journey isn't about happily ever after, but about finding a way to exist, perhaps even thrive, amidst the monsters – both human and botanical – that surround them. It's truly an unforgettable exploration of a relationship that thrives on the edge of danger and desperation.