In the Dream House: A Memoir — A haunting memoir that breaks every rule

I sat in the driveway for a full twenty minutes after this ended.

Lucas was banging on the window asking for a juice box, the ice cream in the trunk was definitely melting, and I just... couldn't move. Usually, I am the queen of escapism. Give me a bakery owner falling for a duke any day. My brain is mush by 7 PM; I don't usually have the bandwidth for "literary trauma."

But this? This wrecked me.

I picked it up because a mom from the PTA wouldn't stop talking about it (she's the one who actually reads the book club picks), and I thought, "Okay, it's only five and a half hours. I can knock that out in two drop-offs and a nap time."

Joke was on me. I didn't knock it out. It knocked me out.

The Voice That Haunted My Kitchen

It's narrated by the author, Carmen Maria Machado. Now, let's be real—author narrators are usually a gamble. Sometimes they're dry, or they mumble, or they just don't have that actor energy.

Carmen is different.

She sounds... close. Intimate. Like she's sitting in the passenger seat whispering a secret you don't really want to hear but can't stop listening to. There's this warmth to her voice that makes the scary parts even scarier. And yeah, it gets scary. It's a memoir about an abusive relationship, but the way she tells it—using these wild metaphors about haunted houses and Choose Your Own Adventure stories—it feels like a horror movie.

I actually had to pause it while making mac and cheese because I got overwhelmed. (And I listen to murder podcasts to relax, so that's saying something.)

Not Your Standard "Sad Memoir"

Here's the thing about memoirs—sometimes they feel like a list of bad things that happened. This isn't that.

She breaks the story up into these tiny, bite-sized chapters based on tropes. "The Dream House as Star Trek Episode." "The Dream House as Gothic Romance." It sounds pretentious on paper—honestly, if you described it to me at a dinner party, I'd roll my eyes—but in your ears? It works.

It made the heavy stuff digestible. Instead of just drowning in the sadness of a bad relationship, you're analyzing it with her. You're trying to figure out the puzzle. It kept my brain engaged even when my heart wanted to bail.

Who's This For (And Who Should Run)

Listen if you want something that'll stick with you—something that makes you think about how we talk about abuse, especially in queer relationships. Skip if you need background listening or if you're in a fragile headspace; this one demands your full attention and doesn't pull punches.

Still Thinking About It Over Cold Coffee

Look, this isn't a "fold laundry and zone out" book. Do not listen to this while trying to help a first grader with common core math. You need brain space for this one.

It's heavy. It deals with psychological abuse in a queer relationship, which isn't a story we hear enough, frankly. It's raw and uncomfortable and sometimes makes you want to scream at the characters.

But is it worth it? 100%.

I finished it three days ago and I'm still thinking about it. Usually, I forget a book the second I start the next one. This one stuck. I might need a fluffy rom-com as a palette cleanser before I tackle anything else (seriously, I need a happy ending, stat), but I'm really glad I listened. Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment might be the exact opposite vibe—calm, grounding, zero trauma—but honestly, that's exactly what I need after this emotional gut-punch.

Just maybe don't listen right before school pickup unless you want to explain to a 5-year-old why Mommy looks like she saw a ghost.