The small seaside town of Eastport has everything: charming shops, excellent restaurants, quaint architecture, several picturesque cemeteries, various ghosts, and, of course, countless curses.
The town has emphatically embraced its reputation as one of the most haunted places in the United States, to the point of hosting monthly celebrations of its many ghostly legends. And for the residents of Eastport, no legend looms larger than that of Sweet Molly, which tells of a young girl who mysteriously vanished following her brother’s death—but not before casting a curse on the coastal community, blaming them for her sibling’s untimely demise.
Twelve-year-old Mallory wishes her family still lived in Chicago instead of somewhere that pretends it’s always Halloween for the sake of tourism. She finds her new hometown’s obsession with all things macabre a little tacky and more than a little morbid. She doesn’t even believe in any of the ghost stories (although they’re definitely the source of her recent sleep troubles).
But as the town prepares to celebrate a major anniversary of its most infamous legend, Mallory comes face-to-face with Sweet Molly herself, discovering that some ghosts are very real—and bent on revenge.
It took me a couple of books to warm up to Lindsay Currie’s style of storytelling. My notes for the first few books I read by her are hilariously testy, with one of them haughtily declaring, “I fundamentally disagree with every narrative choice Currie makes.” (Like, chill out, Past Rick.) My opinion has obviously softened since then, and I’ve come to genuinely appreciate Currie’s particular approach to children’s horror. And The Girl in White highlights everything I think she does best.
Which isn’t to say all of my initial reservations have gone away: I still find some of her character choices baffling, and her plots are often a bit too vague for my tastes. But Currie can also write some superbly spooky set pieces, and this novel is positively full of them. She’s also great at atmosphere: Eastport is a perpetually rainy and foggy sort of town—the ideal setting for a ghostly tale if there ever was one.
What I appreciate most about Currie’s approach is the way she incorporates historical elements into her stories. In The Girl in White, she draws inspiration from real towns like Sleepy Hollow, New York, and particularly Salem, Massachusetts. Like the famous Witch City, Eastport is a town fascinated by its haunted history, although Currie takes that fascination to far gaudier extremes. The result is a story about how easily places with harrowing histories can end up, however inadvertently, exploiting their past in the name of tourism and commercialization. About how doing so can trivialize the suffering of people who went through terrible things, no matter how long ago those events may have transpired. And what happens when a community is forced to reckon with that sort of collective carelessness.
Of course, the relationship towns like Salem have with their own histories is far more nuanced than the one depicted in this novel, and Currie never suggests otherwise. But I do think she’s as interested in exploring the more uncomfortable ways we choose to remember and engage with history as she is in celebrating the traditions that have grown around it. She manages to do both with grace and aplomb, in this reader’s opinion. I enjoyed this story quite a bit.









