How many times have we heard this? How many times have we dismissed a girl because she acts in ways that make us uncomfortable? Make us questions ourselves?
Author: Hanna Alkaf
Goodreads rating: 3.56
Pages: 352
Publication: September 24th 2024 by Salaam Reads
We’re back with another Hanna Alkaf review! I haven’t picked up anything of hers since The Girl and the Ghost, and because I adore her earlier works, I went into this one with sky-high expectations. The premise alone is exquisite: a wave of mass hysteria sweeping through a century-old girls’ school (formerly a convent, if I’m not mistaken), with two main characters who could not be more different but are suddenly forced to confront the fact that their once-safe haven is no longer safe, and to uncover why.
Beyond the hysteria and supernatural tension, the book dives into heavier themes: trauma from sexual assault, its ripple effects on both survivors and those around them, parental expectations, the clash between what you want and what others expect from you, and the unsettling reality of adults who fail to protect the adolescents under their care. With a premise this loaded, the story holds a lot of promise—but it also demands careful, respectful handling.
As expected, Hanna Alkaf’s writing is incredibly engaging, especially for Malaysian readers. Having been in a religious school myself, one with more hysteria cases than I can count, this book felt strangely familiar, and that’s exactly what makes her work so enjoyable. And even though I enjoy horror (while rarely reading it… I’m working on that), this book did manage to creep me out, particularly in Rachel’s chapters. The “screaming” itself wasn’t terrifying, but the context behind it, the slow unravelling, the possession-like moments, definitely got under my skin.
The school, however, didn’t feel haunted enough. The atmosphere was there, but the horror elements stayed subtle, almost too subtle. Overall, it reads more like a contemporary YA with a dash of mystery than a full horror novel, which left me a little disappointed. I see where she was trying to channel Shirley Jackson, but it didn’t fully land.
On the positive side, she handled the sensitive topics with care, and I genuinely appreciate that. These are very real issues faced by teenage girls, and she treats them with the seriousness they deserve. I also love how she captures teenage female rage, a topic often dismissed or diminished. Labelling girls’ pain and fear as “hysteria” is something women experience at every age, but it hits teenage girls the hardest. Hanna clearly tried to give them the justice and voice they’re so often denied.
However, like many readers, I felt the ending left too many loose threads, to my dismay. I don’t mind slow pacing when it’s done to build immersion, but the pacing here felt uneven—fast where it needed depth, slow where more story could’ve unfolded. The two protagonists don’t even meet until very late in the book, and the narrative only really picks up at that point. But once it does, the story rushes forward, skips over crucial details, and ends abruptly. The girls’ personal arcs feel unfulfilled, as if their stories were minimised—ironically echoing how adults often dismiss the inner lives of teenage girls.
Overall, I still think this book has a heartbeat worth listening to. The themes matter, the conversations it tries to start matter, and Hanna Alkaf’s voice for Malaysian teens is one I’ll always root for. Maybe that’s exactly why I wanted more, because stories about Malaysian girls, their fears, their rage, their friendships, are rare, and this one had the potential to be monumental. I just wish the execution had given these girls the closure they deserved. Even so, I’m glad I read it, and I’ll still be looking forward to whatever Hanna Alkaf does next, hoping she leans even deeper into the depths she’s clearly capable of exploring.
Recommended for people who love: Southeast Asian horror stories, teen girls rage, haunted schools
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