Review: Rose of Jericho by Michael Grecian
When I first stumbled upon Rose of Jericho by Michael Grecian, I was immediately intrigued by its exploration of a topic that often lingers in the shadows of our consciousness: death. As I dove into its pages, I found myself entangled in a web of existential questions and human experiences that lingered long after I turned the final page. A heartfelt thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio for the advanced listening copy, and to my local library for the physical edition that brought this beauty into my hands.
From the moment I finished the book, I felt a flutter of conflicting emotions—a mix of contemplation and lingering uncertainty about its pacing. Initially, I would have rated it a solid 3 or 3.5 stars. However, the more time I spent reflecting on Grecian’s masterful themes and character exploration, the more I realized the depth of the work. Consequently, I bumped my rating up to a solid 4 out of 5 stars—an appreciation for the craftsmanship that unfolded as I mulled over the spontaneous moments of philosophy weaved throughout the narrative.
At its core, Rose of Jericho grapples with the duality of death. It prompts us to reconsider not only what death means but also what it means to live with a purposeful existence. The premise is driven by Moses, whose grief leads him to the unimaginable act of killing death itself. It’s a hook that serves not just the plot but the philosophical heart of the story. As the characters navigate their grief and obsessions, Grecian pushes readers to confront questions that weigh heavily on the human spirit: "What does the promise of heaven mean to someone who would not see it?"
I was particularly captivated by the contrasts among the characters. Moses stands as a pillar of resolve amid his grief; even after death, he emerges with a sense of purpose that many alive struggle to find. His interactions, especially with Frank, who almost embodying the archetype of the used car salesman, added delightful complexity. Frank’s desperation to cling to life contrasts sharply with Moses’s acceptance of his circumstances, making for a compelling dynamic that kept me engaged.
The audiobook narration by the same voice from Red Rabbit added an interesting layer, though I found it occasionally challenging to navigate with the number of perspectives. While it suits the tone of the book, I couldn’t help but feel that having the physical copy complemented the experience beautifully. It was akin to pairing a fine wine with a gourmet meal—each enhancing the other.
As for the writing style, Grecian’s prose flows with a poetic undercurrent that balances eerie moments with philosophical depth. Certain sections felt a tad drawn out, leaving me waiting for a narrative spark, yet they serve a purpose in building tension. The eventual payoff is rewarding, anchoring the weight of the philosophical questions posed in the earlier chapters.
In closing, I wholeheartedly recommend Rose of Jericho to readers who are unafraid to wrestle with life’s heavy themes. This book resonates particularly well with those who, like me, appreciate literary works that challenge perception and prompt reflection long after reading. If you’re willing to immerse yourself in the profound and unsettling, Rose of Jericho will leave you pondering the relationships we maintain with death, purpose, and ultimately, what it means to truly live. This book has certainly cemented itself in my mind as one that intertwines horror with poetic melancholy—a thoughtful reflection on existence itself.