In “Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil” V.E. Schwab invites readers into a darkly poetic world across three distinct timelines—16th‑century Spain, 19th‑century England, and contemporary Boston—each centered on a woman plunged into vampiric existence. The novel opens in 1532, Santo Domingo de la Calzada, where María, whose beauty and spirit make her stand out, is thrust into a forced life of marriage. Rebellion bubbles beneath her surface until a mysterious stranger offers her an escape she never anticipated.
The narrative then shifts to 1827 London, where Charlotte, constrained by family expectations, experiences a forbidden romance with a widow—one that sends her spiraling into exile in the city. It is through this intimate and emotional connection that she is drawn toward immortality. Finally, in 2019 Boston, we meet Alice, a college student eager for a new life. A careless fling leads to her transformation into a vampire: she wakes, disoriented, with fangs and a thirst she can’t control, compelling her to hunt down the one who changed her.
While the timelines unfold separately, Schwab subtly weaves thematic threads—hunger, identity, grief—that tether each woman’s destiny. The slow narrative build is deliberate: readers are drawn into each individual life before the underlying supernatural link emerges.
Prose That Bites: Literary Style and Tone
Critics unanimously praise Schwab’s haunting, lyrical prose. She captures atmosphere with visceral clarity—damp earth, a throbbing heart, sun-lashed skin, thirsty nights. One reviewer compares the prose to a “fever dream of toxic love”, while another notes how the writing “brings beauty into the darkness” without veering into pretentiousness.
Even reviewers who arrived without vampiric expectations were struck. Noah Isaacs from SFF Insiders admitted he “regrets not reading more Schwab sooner”; the story “KNOCKED it out the park” even though vampires aren’t usually his go-to. Another reviewer from Grimdark Magazine called it “Schwab’s writing at its best,” noting the characters felt real enough to step off the page.
Women, Identity, and Subversion of Expectations
At its core, the story explores three queer women confronting societal constraints across different eras. Kirkus highlights how María, Charlotte, and Alice are “queer women searching for love, recognition, and wholeness,” refusing traditional gender roles and expectations. Locus Online argues that the novel is not just about vampires, but speaks to “the experience of presenting as a woman across centuries in the Western hemisphere,” tackling hunger and liberty in a world designed to suppress them.
For Maria, vampirism is liberation from a stifling, patriarchal life; for Charlotte, it’s a dangerous emancipation from romantic and social confinement; and for Alice, it is grief made manifest—an unwanted power she now must navigate . Several reviewers also tie the novel’s rich character work to Schwab’s signature strength, likening it to The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue.
Hunger, Grief, and Emotional Horror
The novel is less about jump‑scares and more about existential dread. Bookish Goblin describes it as “emotional horror,” rooted in loneliness and the fear of being alone—an ache that drives destructive choices. The Nerd Daily references how “grief, revenge, and trying to fill the endless hunger inside” form the core of Schwab’s narrative.
This hunger is literal (bloodthirst) and metaphorical. One critic notes how Schwab frames vampirism as “an endless appetite to devour and be devoured,” highlighting the macabre eroticism and power imbalance of the relationships. The recurring theme: immortality doesn’t quiet emptiness—it amplifies it.
Pacing and Structural Critiques
Despite universal acclaim for the tone and character arcs, some critics point to pacing issues. The diaryofareader blog observes the story occasionally stumbles, “tripping over its own roots,” with an uneven tempo—“racing one moment and dragging the next”. Fantasy Hive remarks that the novel “slow‑burns” until the final 20%, and the repetition in the middle sections slightly diminished engagement.
Similarly, The Library Ladies acknowledges the novel’s beauty and themes but found it “a bit too familiar” in structure and noted that certain middle passages felt unnecessary. Overall though, these are minor detractors from a deeply affecting story.
How the Timelines Intersect
The reveal of how María’s, Charlotte’s, and Alice’s destinies intertwine is sculpted with care. The narrative shifts gradually from isolated timelines to shared motifs—faded roses, fetid soil, recurring women, repeating legacies. One blog praises Schwab’s skill in tying arcs across centuries via “roots that tangle like blood‑stained vines”. Crooks Books remarks on the surprise twist by mid‑book, marking a well‑paced arrival of the major vampiric revelation.
Final Verdict: A Visceral Vampire Tapestry
Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil is no standard vampire novel—it’s literary horror, historical gothic, and emotional subversion all woven into one. Schwab delivers 500+ pages of lush prose, morally flawed characters, and a slow-burning transformation of loneliness and power. While pacing occasionally lags, the emotional resonance carries through.
This novel is a reckoning: with hunger (blood, desire, ambition), grief, identity, and immortality—asking whether forever is a gift or a cage. It both feeds on and embodies the darkness it depicts.
If you savor a tale of toxic, timeless love; if lyrical, gothic prose and queer, character-driven horror appeal to you—Schwab’s work is unlikely to disappoint. Just be prepared for the weight of its 500+ pages and the burn of its emotional intensity.
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