An exercise in restraint: this is what Rouge is in many ways. Through some measured and deliberate use of words, characters, and ideas, Mona Awad has managed to construct a brilliant and terrifying tale about obsession, envy, loss, and logic-defying cosmic horror.

Mirabelle Nour has a strange fixation on beauty treatments. Her comfort zone is watching her favorite beauty Youtuber, and she has a regimen for each time of the day. Her insecurities are compounded by—or most likely caused by—her mother Noelle, who, to her eyes, isn’t just beautiful: she has a Glow to her. In the opening, Mirabelle’s thoughts flit back and forth between a very detailed accounting of whatever she’s supposed to be slathering on her face at any moment (“By the time I finished my morning routine, it was early evening.”), and, compared to herself, just how amazingly stunning and unattainable her mother’s beauty was. Was, for when Rouge begins, Belle’s mother has just passed away.

Having been estranged from her for years, Belle has flown from her current home of Montreal to bright, sunny California to attend her mom’s funeral and to set her affairs in order.

When Belle finds a locked diary and the key that unlocks it among her mother’s things, she begins a descent into a world where the pursuit of beauty is taken to a wholly different level. She discovers Rouge—is it a society, or a spa, or a club?—and its inhabitants seem only too pleased to welcome her into their ranks.

It gets really trippy and disturbing from there.

Mona Awad writes about events, sights, smells, and sensations tremendously well, and her skill elevates the story from just a spooky tale into one that branches off into different directions—childhood fears and frustrations, body insecurity, commercialism, unexplainable demonic entities who look like Tom Cruise and climb out of mirrors—while maintaining a cohesive and strong core idea.

There is something Lovecraftian in her non-descriptions of the people who undergo the treatments at Rouge, and she uses that empty mental space effectively. After all, how can you use words to describe the indescribable?

It sure seems like this is the way.

The book itself is simply a pleasure to read: no word out of place, not one character too many, and just the right amount of pop-culture self-awareness. The totally unexpected appearance of the phrase “two fish, one net” almost made me fall off my chair.

There’s so much more to dissect and discuss about Rouge, but it should suffice to say that it’s an excellent novel—possibly the best I’ve read this year. Expect some good characterization, astonishingly good writing, and oddities galore. Go check it out.