The Sin-Eater’s Confession (Ilsa Bick)


People in Merit, Wisconsin, always said Jimmy was . . . you know. But people said all sorts of stupid stuff. Nobody really knew anything. Nobody really knew Jimmy.

I guess you could say I knew Jimmy as well as anyone (which was not very well). I knew what scared him. And I knew he had dreams—even if I didn’t understand them. Even if he nearly ruined my life to pursue them.

Jimmy’s dead now, and I definitely know that better than anyone. I know about blood and bone and how bodies decompose. I know about shadows and stones and hatchets. I know what a last cry for help sounds like. I know what blood looks like on my own hands.

What I don’t know is if I can trust my own eyes. I don’t know who threw the stone. Who swung the hatchet? Who are the shadows? What do the living owe the dead?

By accident, I’ve read two YA books back to back. (That’s what you get for not reading blurbs) The one I read before this was superb but this one? It was not. And that sucks because I have enjoyed a lot of this author’s work before this. Sadly, this was not one.


The main thing you should know about The Sin Eater’s Confession is this: The narrator is the worst. I couldn’t find a single redeeming quality about him until I closed the book and realized I finally didn’t have to read about him or his constant paranoid state of mind anymore. Thank goodness.

The subject matter of the book didn’t bother me. Not even the writing bothered me, the writing was incredible. What bothered me was simply the narrator. He was weak, he was indecisive and constantly looking for validation, he was paranoid 99.9% of the time, reassuring himself CONSTANTLY, and the incessant negativity did me in. Perhaps if this book would have had a different POV or different narrator, it would have went a lot more smoother for me. He just left a very uneasy feeling inside of me and a very bad taste in my mouth.


NOT TO MENTION, not a single happy thing happens in this book. Nothing. You are constantly being drug around and around and never going up. Always down, down, down. Which is another depressing factor because Bick’s writing is usually a slam dunk for me. The plot in this story, was just…sad and depressing.

So, basically the coolest parts about this book is the title and the cover.



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