Have you ever picked up a book and felt instantly transported into a scene so vivid that it feels like your own memory? That’s how Crimson begins, with a storm so eerie it gave me chills. Kirsten Farris, a painter-turned-author, brings her artistry to the page, crafting a story filled with tension and raw emotion. Known for championing women in the arts, Farris proves she’s as gifted with words as she is with a brush.
Crimson is Sarah Paige’s story—an honest, often heartbreaking journey through college pressures, family conflicts, and the rocky terrain of young love. It’s the kind of book where every page holds an undercurrent of suspense. From her strained relationship with her father to her mysterious boyfriend, Charlie, the tension never lets up. Yet, at its heart, it’s about finding strength in vulnerability—a theme that feels deeply personal and universal at once.
Farris’s writing feels like a painting coming to life. Her descriptions are lush, her metaphors striking, and her pacing builds anticipation like a well-composed symphony. Take the stormy prologue, for example—I could hear the howling wind, feel the cold air, and sense Sarah’s fear. At times, the detailed descriptions linger a bit too long, but they also deepen the immersive experience.
Sarah is a flawed yet endearing protagonist. Her battles with self-doubt and her quest to live up to expectations reminded me of my own struggles during college. Margaret, her sister, brings a mix of sibling rivalry and fierce loyalty, a dynamic anyone with siblings will recognize. And then there’s Charlie, whose complexity kept me guessing until the very end. Each character feels real, like someone you’ve met—or maybe even been.
The story unfolds with deliberate care, balancing family drama, personal growth, and moments of chilling suspense. Flashbacks and dream sequences add layers of mystery, but they occasionally slow the pacing. Still, Farris keeps the reader hooked with twists that feel earned, not forced.
What does it mean to truly find yourself while balancing family expectations? How do we navigate love, loss, and the pressure to succeed? These are the questions Crimson explores. The storm in the prologue isn’t just a weather event—it’s a metaphor for the inner and outer chaos Sarah must face. The themes resonate deeply, making you reflect on your own struggles and triumphs.
Certain scenes hit me hard. The conversation between Sarah and her father about her grades felt uncomfortably real, echoing moments from my own life. At the same time, her determination to rebuild herself inspired me. Farris’s ability to blend fear, hope, and resilience is what makes Crimson unforgettable.
Crimson excels at creating atmosphere and depth. Farris’s painterly eye translates into vivid world-building, while her dialogue feels natural and heartfelt. Moments like Sarah’s stormy night or her bittersweet reunions with loved ones showcase Farris’s talent for balancing emotion and suspense.
If I had to nitpick, some subplots, like Charlie’s backstory, felt a little underdeveloped. A tighter focus on these threads could have made the narrative even more compelling. But isn’t life full of loose ends? Maybe that’s the point.
This book touched me in ways I didn’t expect. As someone who’s struggled with the weight of expectations and the desire to carve my own path, I saw pieces of myself in Sarah. Farris’s storytelling isn’t just engaging—it’s deeply human.
In Crimson, Kirsten Farris delivers a story that’s as haunting as it is heartfelt. It’s a book for anyone who’s ever felt torn between who they are and who they’re expected to be. If you’re looking for a read that will leave you thinking—and feeling—long after the final page, Crimson is it. Here’s hoping Farris has more stories to share because I, for one, am ready to dive in.
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