Review of Doll Parts by Penny Zang
As I settled into my reading nook on this overcast morning, an air of expectancy hung around me—this was the day I’d finally dive into Doll Parts, the astonishing debut novel by Penny Zang. With its haunting cover and intriguing premise, I felt drawn to the blend of nostalgia, girlhood, and mystery right from the first page. Honestly, I’m not usually captivated by ghost stories, but this book promised something deeper, and I wasn’t disappointed. Happy publication day, Penny!
At its core, Doll Parts is a poignant exploration of friendship, grief, and the complexities that accompany both. The narrative unfolds in dual timelines, with the early 2000s showcasing best friends Nikki and Sadie at their women’s college near Baltimore. As they blast Courtney Love and navigate their youthful ambitions, an ominous cloud looms on campus—the legend of "the Sylvia Club." This grim tale about the tragic deaths of Plath-obsessed students entraps Nikki, an aspiring writer, who dives deep into the stories of these “sad girls.” Time shifts us forward to a hauntingly estranged Sadie, now living in Nikki’s meticulously preserved home, entangled in a web woven by grief and guilt.
Interestingly, Zang’s masterful prose stands out as one of the novel’s highlights. It flows like a beautifully melancholic poem, rich with vivid imagery and emotion. I often found myself pausing to savor the language, which feels almost hypnotic. One moment that particularly struck me was when the characters grapple with the idea of lingering presences, reminiscent of Hole’s haunting lyrics from “Doll Parts”: “I fake it so real, I am beyond fake / And someday you will ache like I ache.” This lyrical tone permeates the book, amplifying the emotional landscapes that Zang creates.
The atmospheric setting, with its fall foliage and the oppressive weight of the Sylvia Club legend, envelops the reader in a sense of melancholy that feels almost tangible. Nikki’s voice from the past is painted with such clarity, and her relationship with Sadie is portrayed with grace and authenticity. Their deep, messy friendship resonates powerfully, and the void left by its fracture feels like a physical ache.
That being said, I did find the resolution of the Sylvia Club mystery somewhat underwhelming, which might be a polarizing point for some readers. Yet, I appreciated the presence of ambiguity—it mirrors the very essence of grief and obsession, where not every answer is neatly packaged. Sometimes, in the tapestry of our lives, threads remain loose, and that’s a truth beautifully rendered in the novel.
Overall, Doll Parts is an evocative and beautifully crafted debut that will especially resonate with fans of dark academia and literary suspense. You certainly don’t need to be a Sylvia Plath devotee to appreciate its depth; however, her shadow looms in a manner that will delight those familiar with her work.
Reflecting on my reading experience, I found myself lost in thought long after turning the final page. Doll Parts lingers like a melody, both haunting and lyrical, and I believe it will impact anyone who dares to explore the intricate layers of grief, friendship, and the stories we tell ourselves. If you’ve ever felt the weight of unfinished business—whether in relationships, aspirations, or personal history—this novel might just resonate with you in profound ways. Here’s to Penny Zang and the lasting echoes of Doll Parts!