In Johanna van Veen’s sophomore novel, Blood on Her Tongue, we are treated to a masterfully crafted gothic horror that explores the boundaries of sisterly devotion against the backdrop of a mysteriously preserved bog body. Set in the Netherlands in 1887, the novel follows Lucy Goedhart as she rushes to her twin sister Sarah’s side after receiving alarming news of her deteriorating health. What begins as an apparent brain fever quickly spirals into something far more sinister as Lucy discovers that Sarah’s obsession with a recently unearthed bog body may have horrifying supernatural implications.
Van Veen’s prose is richly atmospheric, drawing readers into the damp, oppressive setting of Zwartwater (literally “black water”), a crumbling estate built on drained bog land. The constant rainfall, pools of dark water, and persistent fog create an environment where boundaries—between sanity and madness, life and death, human and monster—blur with disturbing ease.
Sisterhood Bonds: The Heart of the Horror
At its core, Blood on Her Tongue is a story about sisters. Lucy and Sarah’s relationship forms the emotional backbone of the novel, with their twin bond presented as something almost supernatural in itself. Van Veen explores how this connection can be both salvation and prison:
“Because you are my sister, and I know you’ll help me.”
The twins represent fascinating contrasts: Sarah is presented as “fully realized”—intelligent, passionate, and possessing a distinct identity—while Lucy sees herself as “half a person,” existing in her sister’s shadow. This dynamic creates a compelling psychological foundation for the horror that follows, as Lucy must determine how far she will go to protect her sister when Sarah appears to be possessed by something ancient and hungry.
Van Veen, herself a triplet, brings authenticity to her portrayal of multiples. The unique psychology of twin relationships is rendered with nuance and depth that elevates the narrative beyond standard gothic fare. When Sarah transforms into “Not-Sarah,” Lucy’s internal struggle becomes the true horror story—is the parasitic entity that has consumed her sister’s consciousness still her sister? If identity is the sum of memories and experiences, does Not-Sarah’s possession of Sarah’s memories make her Sarah? These philosophical questions add intellectual heft to what is already a viscerally disturbing tale.
Beyond Vampires: A Fresh Take on Parasitic Horror
While Blood on Her Tongue borrows elements from vampire mythology, van Veen creates something refreshingly original. The parasitic entity inhabiting Sarah resembles a tick more than a traditional vampire—consuming its host completely rather than merely feeding on them. This creature:
- Hibernates in bog bodies for centuries
- Absorbs memories and personalities of its hosts
- Can repair physical damage with sufficient consumption
- Remains vulnerable when between hosts
The novel’s treatment of bog bodies as vessels for ancient parasites is particularly inspired. Van Veen effectively uses real archaeological phenomena to ground her supernatural horror, lending credibility to the fantastical elements. The preserved nature of bog bodies—their leathery skin, red hair, and facial expressions eerily intact after centuries—provides the perfect vehicle for a hibernating parasite.
Progressive Gothic: Queerness and Madness in Victorian Society
Van Veen skillfully interweaves themes of queerness and mental illness without falling into problematic tropes. The novel features multiple queer characters whose sexuality is presented matter-of-factly rather than as pathology. Sarah/Not-Sarah’s relationship with Katje is portrayed with tenderness, while Aunt Adelheid’s story provides historical context for the dangers faced by queer women in the 19th century.
The novel’s treatment of “madness” is similarly progressive. Van Veen flips Victorian assumptions about female hysteria on their head by revealing that Sarah’s supposedly delusional fears are entirely justified. The social consequences of being labeled mad—especially for women—are portrayed with historical accuracy and modern sensibility. The asylum serves as a looming threat throughout the narrative, representing society’s desire to contain and control that which it does not understand.
Blood-Soaked Prose: Style and Structure
Van Veen’s writing is immersive and visceral, particularly in scenes involving bodily horror. Her descriptions of physical trauma—from Sarah jamming a pen into her own eye to Lucy’s disturbing act of gouging out Michael’s eyes—are rendered with unflinching detail that will make even hardened horror readers squirm.
The novel’s structure effectively builds tension through:
- Lucy’s initial discovery of Sarah’s deteriorating condition
- Sarah’s diary entries and letters establishing her obsession with the bog body
- The revelation of “Not-Sarah” and the parasitic nature of the entity
- Lucy’s increasingly desperate actions to protect her sister
- The bloody climax and ambiguous ending
Van Veen employs multiple narrative techniques, including embedded texts (letters, court documents, newspaper articles) that provide historical context and advance the plot. This approach creates a rich tapestry that mimics gothic classics like Dracula while maintaining a distinctly modern sensibility.
Weaknesses: A Few Muddy Patches in the Bog
Despite its strengths, Blood on Her Tongue occasionally stumbles. Some plot elements feel contrived—particularly Lucy’s ability to overpower two grown men despite her exhausted state. The novel also introduces characters like Mrs. van Dijk who, while initially interesting, aren’t fully developed before being side-lined.
The pacing in the middle section drags somewhat, with repeated scenes of Sarah refusing food and Lucy fretting about her condition. While these repetitions effectively convey Lucy’s helplessness, they somewhat diminish the narrative momentum.
Additionally, some readers may find the ending too abrupt. While the ambiguity serves the gothic tone, certain plot threads are left dangling in a way that feels less like artistic choice and more like narrative convenience.
Comparison to Other Works
Van Veen’s debut novel, My Darling Dreadful Thing, established her talent for historical gothic horror with a feminist bent. Blood on Her Tongue builds on these strengths while exploring new territory. The parasitic elements recall classics like The Thing and Invasion of the Body Snatchers, while the twin relationship draws parallels to psychological horror films like The Other and Goodnight Mommy.
Fans of Carmen Maria Machado’s Her Body and Other Parties will appreciate van Veen’s blend of body horror and feminist themes, while readers who enjoyed Emily M. Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines will find similar atmospheric tension and queer representation.
Final Thoughts: A Feast Worth Consuming
Blood on Her Tongue succeeds as both a chilling horror novel and a meditation on identity, sisterhood, and the nature of self. Van Veen has crafted a world where the supernatural feels possible precisely because it’s grounded in psychological truth. Lucy’s desperate love for her sister—even when that sister has become something monstrous—drives the narrative toward its bloody conclusion with inexorable force.
The novel’s greatest strength lies in making readers question what they would do in Lucy’s position. Would you kill to feed the creature wearing your sister’s face? Would you recognize when devotion becomes destruction? There are no easy answers, only the unsettling realization that monsters often wear familiar faces.
For readers seeking thoughtful horror that doesn’t sacrifice visceral thrills, Blood on Her Tongue offers a rare feast. Despite minor flaws, van Veen’s sophomore effort establishes her as a significant voice in contemporary gothic literature, one who understands that true horror lies not in the supernatural but in what we’ll do for those we love.
