I Am Made of Death by Kelly Andrew: Book Review

I Am Made of Death was probably my most anticipated read of the year, and it delivered… sort of. Kelly Andrew just writes in a way that works for my brain. You know when you read a book as a writer and think, “I wish this was my writing style.” That’s how I feel about Kelly Andrew. And that feeling is rare for me. Honestly, it’s only Sally Rooney, Christopher Isherwood, and now Kelly Andrew who make me feel that way.

Before we move on, some spoiler-free thoughts: As you’ll get tired of hearing, I love Kelly Andrew’s prose and that’s never an issue. And the story itself was good. But it didn’t grip me or move me in the same way her previous work did, and overall, this one felt a bit rushed and empty (that’s not the right word, but oh, well). Your Blood, My Bones is world in technicolor, and I Am Made of Death is more muted, that’s how I’d best describe it.

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• My rating: 4 ⭐
• Is it spicy? Nope!
• Standalone or series? Can be read as a standalone, but the characters from the first two books appear here as well, so you’ll get spoilers for book one and two.
• Read if: You want some bubblegum horror, girlhood, monsters in the mirror and a bodyguard romance.

Thoughts and Feelings

Kelly Andrew’s writing is sublime—so simple and delicate, but also so impactful. Beautiful in a way that feels effortless. Her descriptions are the only ones I actually enjoy reading because they add to the story rather than slow it down. It’s such a fine line, but she nails it.

Plot-wise, I enjoyed this book, especially the eerie, unsettling vibe Andrew builds so well. The creepy atmosphere is great. Mirrors are inherently creepy to me, so all the mirror stuff in this book freaked me out. Every time I look into a mirror now, I half-expect something horrifying to stare back. It’s disturbing but also addictive.

I’ll admit, I loved the plot and world of Your Blood, My Bones way more. Maybe that’s because I grew up next to a forest, literally right by a dense forest with a creek. Throw in a creepy church nearby and some old, crumbling buildings, and it was exactly the type of eerie, nature-infused horror Andrew wrote so well in Your Blood, My Bones. It felt like she had somehow plucked that childhood setting from my brain. That book’s atmosphere was so haunting and vivid.

I Am Made of Death is more urban horror; demons and darkness woven into city life. And it’s definitely creepy, don’t get me wrong. The mirror stuff alone was enough to mess with my head. But it didn’t quite land the same way.

Now, here’s where I have to talk about the romance. And this is also where the book lost a star for me. Thomas and Vivienne fall for each other pretty quickly. It’s fine, no one said this was going to be a slow burn.

But the thing is, I didn’t really feel the connection. We’re told they spend every night sitting on the couch together, getting closer and closer until one night they fall asleep next to each other (my favorite micro trope) and get caught. And like, that sounds sweet and all, but we’re told about it instead of seeing it happen. There’s no gradual build-up, no tiny moments of tension or intimacy that would make me believe these two are actually falling for each other.

It just… happens. And especially with Vivienne being awful to Thomas most of the time, I needed more to really buy into their dynamic. Why does Thomas even like her? I needed to see that, feel that.

What did work for me, though, was Vivienne’s personal journey. She starts the book practically dripping with self-loathing, and she slowly, painfully, works her way toward something like acceptance. There’s this beautiful line near the end where she says, “I’m so glad I exist.” And it made me tear up. Because let’s be real, so many of us struggle with self-loathing at some point, and seeing Vivienne reach that place of acceptance was just precious. I loved that for her.

Thomas is such a lovely romantic hero. He’s patient and caring without being overdone.

Something I absolutely have to mention is the author’s note where Kelly Andrew talks about her own experience with language deprivation. It adds such a poignant layer to the book, especially considering Vivienne’s own struggles with feeling isolated and misunderstood. It makes the entire story feel even more personal and raw.

And really, this is the book all of us needed as teenage girls. Messy, complicated, flawed, and painfully real. It’s about finding your own voice and learning to exist unapologetically.

Honestly, I wish books like this existed when I was a teenager. I would’ve eaten them up. And clearly, I’m still devouring them now.

The bottom line is, I Am Made of Death is a great book. Not as mind-blowingly amazing as I hoped it would be, but still an enjoyable, creepy, beautifully written story. Kelly Andrew is one of those authors I would happily read anything from—she could publish her grocery list and I’d still be like, “Yes, please, I need more.”

So yeah, if you like horror, romance, or just gorgeous writing in general, give this one a try. Even if it wasn’t perfect, it’s still absolutely worth reading. And I can’t wait to see what Kelly Andrew comes up with next.