Ostermeier, R - Rumsy Schoolchildren

Elly had attended the auction because of the vintage dolls. Bidding immediately outstripped her budget, which led to her considering the next lot – sixty school desks from Rumsy, circa 1976-1989.
Battered, grimy, scrawled with graffiti on top, gobs of gum underneath. Sex doodles, oaths aimed at despised teachers, private mottos, teen anguish, the lonely misery of adolescence.
Later, cleaned and arranged, the desktops reveal a haphazard history. Perhaps there is enough in them for an exhibition. Perhaps enough for a small book.

The story, which launches on promise, optimism even, skews ever so slightly, and one is drawn deeper into darkness. Elly, our witness, is one who never turns away, even when she suspects something dreadful is being exposed.
Libby Grady beckons and Elly finds the attraction fearfully hard to resist.

This novel is a gradual descent into the horror of “otherness”. Wonderfully paced, as if the curious soul steps carefully, gingerly into the cellar, all while the cellar itself grows dimmer and darker with each footfall.

Caveat? There is an unnecessary afterword that merely serves to bring the proceedings into the “Peninsula” sphere. It dissipates the atmosphere, and ought to be avoided.
Otherwise, this was one of the best things I read in 2024.