Californian freakiness meets Victorian preoccupations with the domestic, pollution and filth, haunted houses, fringe societies, living death, spiritualism, vampiric women, and class parasites. Acid Green Velvet is a blend of nihilism, fathers and their failures, manifest destiny, and American identity.
There’s a great deal of narrative simmering, but the story never really comes to a boil ... Krilanovich certainly has her fans ... But my readings have left me more puzzled than impressed ... It does improve on the author’s debut effort: there’s an actual plot this time, even if a wandering one, and sharper characterization. And the conclusion is both emotionally moving and stylistically impressive. I’m curious to see what Krilanovich achieves in her next book, but this novel doesn’t fully compel.
Krilanovich’s writing is gorgeous and gritty by turns; her characters have substance, and the plot is beyond twisty ... But this is not an immediately immersive read ... Acid Green Velvet sinks in where it touches. It’s a sweaty fever dream rolled into a nauseous acid trip riding roughshod over its tropes—a prickly, perverse, and often brilliant book.
