"Where you go, I go. I told you I'd find you in the light. But if the light won't have you, then I shall find you in the shadows instead."

I fear my words will fail to convey the haunting, lyrical beauty of Where Light Cannot Follow by Nicole Bailey. It is a meditation on grief, loss, regret, love, and the moments we fail to treasure when we armor ourselves up against the hurt in this world.

The connection between the two main characters of Where Light Cannot Follow has a similar depth and tone to that of Achilles and Patroclus in Madeline Miller's Song of Achilles. A love that echoes throughout time...

Virgil is a tragic character, forever tethered to hell, having spent millennia trying to help souls escape from eternal suffering (without drawing the ire of Satan himself).

Virgil cannot touch, be touched, or experience anything of the body. He can use only his words and his presence to journey beside the damned, to witness their stories in the hopes that each soul he chooses can break free from the very patterns that sent them to hell in the first place. Each time he wants to reach for a companion, to offer them comfort, he holds himself back knowing the very thing he most wants is impossible.

It is a lonely, thankless, endless task - each soul leaving a mark on his own, each failure scarring him further, as he drifts further and further from the experiences that made him human.

Dante lived most of his adulthood cut off from everything that makes life worth living, opting instead for optimization, for numbers, for guarantees and cold calculations, rejecting all things soft, intimate, vulnerable, and emotional. He did not yet know that hell would find a way in anyway.

When Virgil finds Dante's soul following his unexpected death, something about the tall, rigid, uncompromising man draws Virgil in. Once Virgil makes contact and offers Dante a way out, their journey begins - through bogs that swallow slowly, the way old regrets do, past demons that want to feed on their pain.

What unfolds is an exquisite study in humanity, healing, and hope. As Dante relives his most painful moments, he is forced to confront what it means to be seen, even at his worst, and to still be found worthy.

But care, it turns out, is not a one-way pilgrimage. Somewhere between the bogs and the gates, Virgil begins to feel something stir beneath centuries of numbness - as if Dante's stubborn, aching aliveness is a gift that might offer Virgil a glimmer of light in the darkness.

I wish I had words for the spell that this story cast on me. Countless moments left their mark—the story of the fox, the description of the pasta, witnessing potential futures we'll never be a part of, the gifts we can offer when all feels lost—I felt as if I journeyed beside them, moving through the sulphurous muck, confronting my own truths at each gate and temptation. Alongside Dante and Virgil, I, too, was unearthing and examining my own trauma, regrets, hopes, and loves.

As soon as the story descended into hell, despair settled herself on my shoulders. Heavy and thick, she reminded me again and again that in this realm, heartbreak was inevitable. Yet, I wouldn't have had it any other way. The sorrow and the grief were necessary, a price I willingly paid for the privilege of witnessing something extraordinary unfold between these two men.

In Virgil's words, "There is something sacred here, and I have never been one to trample upon holy ground."

This is a sensual story. Poetic and vivid. It is a study in love and loss and what it means to stay human in a world determined to harden us.

Dante and Virgil will change those who are brave enough to join them on their journey, and for that I am grateful.

This book completely pulled me into its darkness.

I loved the idea of a man who has spent his entire life believing that control can solve everything, only to die and discover that death is absolutely not the end. Michael's journey through this strange, haunting version of the afterlife was atmospheric, unsettling, and surprisingly emotional.

What really stood out to me was the way the book explores grief, guilt, love, and the things we carry with us long after we think we've left them behind. The idea of hells shaped by memory rather than fire was such an interesting twist, and it made the story feel much more personal and psychological.

And then there is Virgil. Their relationship was one of my favorite parts of the book. Watching Michael slowly begin to let go of the rigid control that defined his life while becoming increasingly connected to Virgil gave the story an emotional depth I wasn't expecting.

This is definitely more than a fantasy about the afterlife. It's a story about reckoning with who we are, what we've done, what we've lost, and whether we're capable of changing when there's nowhere left to hide.

Dark, beautifully written, haunting, and deeply emotional. I loved getting lost in this strange journey through the darkness.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the advanced copy. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

Thank you NetGalley and publisher for this arc.

Where Light Cannot Follow is a beautifully written and thought-provoking fantasy that blends philosophical themes with emotional depth. Inspired by Dante’s Inferno and A Christmas Carol, the novel takes readers on a haunting journey through landscapes shaped by memory, regret, and self-discovery.
Michael Dante is a fascinating protagonist whose rigid belief in control is challenged at every turn after his death. His interactions with Virgil, the cursed poet tasked with guiding lost souls, form the emotional heart of the story. Their evolving relationship adds warmth and complexity to an otherwise dark and atmospheric narrative.
Bailey’s prose is lyrical and immersive, creating a vivid sense of both wonder and unease as the characters descend through increasingly personal hells. While the introspective pacing may feel slow for readers seeking constant action, it perfectly suits the story’s themes of grief, redemption, and human connection.
A compelling and memorable fantasy that explores what it means to truly know oneself and another person, Where Light Cannot Follow is an excellent choice for readers who enjoy literary fantasy with emotional weight and rich symbolism.

This book completely pulled me in from the beginning and had me hooked all the way through. There was something so unsettling about the story, and I loved the feeling that there was always something just beneath the surface that I wasn’t fully understanding. The mystery kept me questioning what was real, who could be trusted, and where everything was ultimately going.

I loved how tense and atmospheric this was without needing to rely on nonstop action. The little details, the strange moments, and the growing sense that something was very wrong kept me turning the pages. Every time I thought I had things figured out, the story gave me another reason to question myself.

The characters were another huge part of why this worked so well for me. I became invested in what they were going through, and the emotional side of the story made the darker moments hit even harder. There was a perfect balance of mystery, suspense, and emotion that kept me completely engaged.

That ending though! I absolutely loved how everything came together, and I definitely had moments where I had to stop and think about what I had just read. This was creepy, clever, unpredictable, and exactly the kind of book that keeps me thinking about it after I’ve finished.