Closed Doors (O'Donnell) - Book Reviews

Book Reviews
[D]azzling.... O’Donnell won the prestigious Commonwealth Book Prize last year with The Death of Bees, a first novel that deftly balanced the morbid with the mundane, a talent that remains on full display here.... O’Donnell’s great talent is most apparent in her depiction of the gap between Michael’s thoughts and his actions.... It’s not revealing too much to say that O’Donnell wraps up Closed Doors in a way that feels both unpredictable and inevitable. It’s a fitting end to a moving story that stakes a lasting, and disturbing, emotional claim on her readers.
Andrew Ervin - New York Times Book Review


There’s loss of innocence here, but the overwhelming tone is warm and sparky; O’Donnell shows how a shattered family can remake itself, and Michael’s narrative voice is delightful—observant, thoughtful, comical, and thoroughly believable.
Sunday Times (London)


O'Donnell has created a resourceful, scabby-kneed character who is both believably childish and knowingly perceptive. Yet the novel never feels as blisteringly original as its predecessor.... [Closed Doors] relies on the first-person testimony of Michael—which, while admirably direct, sometimes seems a little bald on the page: "'My da is sad, my granny is sad. We are all afraid and I pray for my ma to get better."
Alfred Hickling - Guardian - (UK)


[O’Donnell] has fashioned yet another humane and compulsive read, grounded in a realism which, depicted through a child’s eyes—with that hint of a child’s surreal perception—gathers together violence, humor, and love in a most believable way.
Scotland on Sunday


Though O’Donnell creates a powerful voice for her young protagonist, she is less than fair to Rosemary, whose fear that telling the truth would open her up to victim blaming is presented as simply a source of pain to others, rather than as a legitimate concern.
Publishers Weekly


As in The Death of Bees, a 2013 Commonwealth Book Prize winner, O'Donnell looks at adult misbehavior through the eyes of a child. Eleven-year-old Michael Murray has peered behind enough doors to know why his mother's face is often bruised, but he suspects that more secrets await him
Library Journal


(Starred review.) The novel asks (and possibly answers) two important questions—to what extent should children be protected from the truth, and does silence do more harm than good? While it deals with disturbing subject matter, this is an engaging page-turner that effectively explores the trials and tribulations of childhood with warmth and humor. —Kerri Price
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