Wickedly sharp and deeply unsettling, No. 28 blends dark humor with creeping psychological horror in a way that feels both elegant and vicious. The writing is deliberate and exacting, every sentence carrying a quiet threat beneath its polished surface. The story examines fractured minds and fragile alliances with a knowing smirk, turning observation into surveillance and familiarity into something dangerous.
The house itself feels complicit—watchful, patient, and far too aware. What begins as shared space and uneasy civility slowly rots as secrets surface and trust becomes a liability. The humor is pitch-black and perfectly timed, sharpening the dread rather than relieving it. The horror lives in implication and manipulation, in the slow recognition that something has been wrong for far longer than anyone wants to admit.
At its core, this is a cautionary tale about the invisible threads binding people together—and the damage left behind when those threads finally snap. With prose that cuts clean and precise, No. 28 delivers psychological horror that is intelligent, cruel, and deliciously unsettling.
5 stars.
Thank you Raven Dubois, NetGalley, and Troubador for the opportunity to read and review

Thank you to Netgalley for the opportunity to read this book.

You know when you read a really good book and you can not find the words to describe it? This is how I feel about this book at the moment, so bare with me as I try to put into words what the book meant to me.
I finished it in the early hours of this morning, and to say that it affected me would be an understatement. While you are reading the book, it is an uncomfortable insight into the unravelling of a troubled soul. There are so many layers and levels to the characters involved in this tale of madness, and the scale of what took place at No. 28, will hit you in a way you will not see coming. It is beautifully written, with a depth and understand of how destructive one's descent into madness truly affects those around them.
It will not be for everyone, but if you do get a chance to read this book, I hope that you can appreciate the message that it is trying to convey to the reader.

a book that somehow gets right into your soul. you feel and think so much during this book and yet i come here and ive no idea how to put it in ways that will get across just what this book is about. and thats on me. because in so many way i know. this book makes me feel i want to describe the book and its content like im somehow one of the residents in the book! or maybe not because no way would i ever want to be one of those.
its one of those books that you feel the threat and unsettled feeling but its done so well its almost just woven within the pages and words. like the author is casting the spell on the characters as well as readers. that feeling of darkness and fear and also sadness radiates from the book. so in that way it is MOST definitely Psychological thriller. and its beautiful too. there were moments i found myself going back to read things again or in a more focused way if i didn't give it enough attention. as you learn about each woman you think you might have a grip on whats going on but you are never quite sure.
when you find out what does indeed connect the dots and bind it all together it felt like aha yes perfect and i found myself thinking about it all over again.
i think many people will be able to talk about this book. and i cant wait to come back and look at others points of view on it. it definitely for me needs other minds to help me feel succinct in how i feel and think about it. you know when cleverer people than you will word or pinpoint things and you think "yes yes" thats its. i really look forward to see that when this book enters others worlds.
Raven has written something truly captivating here. i worried at times whether i was doing it justice with what it came across to me ass. when i finally finished and thought i knew the premise and its round off i was deeply satisfied as a reader and somehow wanted more.

No. 28 is one of those novels that slips under your skin before you even realise it’s happening. What begins as a seemingly ordinary suburban setup quickly becomes a deliciously unsettling study of fractured minds, fragile connections, and the secrets that seep through the walls of a once‑grand Victorian house.

The structure works beautifully: five women living in isolation under the same roof, each tucked away in her own apartment, each convinced her privacy is intact. The tension comes not from loud shocks but from the slow, creeping sense that something is deeply wrong—and that whatever binds these women together is far stranger than they know.

Alana, the unravelling owner of No. 28, is the gravitational centre of the story. Her sessions with the enigmatic psychiatrist are some of the most compelling moments in the book, blurring the line between memory and delusion in a way that keeps you constantly off balance. As he digs deeper into her psyche, the question becomes not just whether he can help her, but whether he can trust his own grip on reality.

The atmosphere is wonderfully crafted—darkly humorous at times, quietly claustrophobic at others. There’s a sense of inevitability as the threads connecting the residents tighten, twist, and finally snap. When the storm breaks, the fallout feels both shocking and perfectly earned.

If you enjoy psychological fiction that leans into mood, character, and slow‑burn dread, No. 28 is a compelling, unsettling read. It’s elegant, eerie, and full of the kind of tension that lingers long after you’ve turned the final page.

With thanks to Raven Dubois, the publisher and netgalley for the ARC

Prominent among the various elements of Raven Dubois’ “No. 28,” of which there are many, are a young woman with a troubled past and the psychiatrist to whom she is sent and into whose life her situation imparts the most interesting part of the novel for me, a vision or recollection or whatever of the First World War reminiscent for me of Katherine Arden’s “The Warm Hands of Ghosts.”
Saying much more would be giving away too much of the novel, other than to say that the titular residence is as much a character as Dubois’ actual dramatis personae, which include a woman writing a novel about a murderer.
An intriguing setup, at any rate, her tale, even if the confusion that its multiple parts made for me was never fully resolved to my satisfaction. But that may just be an indication of my disaffection in general with mysteries – too much artifice or contrivance for my taste – and readers more taken with the genre will undoubtedly find themselves more enthralled than I was with Dubois's book, which, for all my nits, is nevertheless a significant feat of the imagination.

Beautifully written, haunting, and descriptive. Following each of the characters was a clever little map of deception and sadness in being alone. Twisty until the very end, and even then I sat there for a bit thinking it all through. Unpredictable and I enjoyed it very much.