In Leah Konen’s latest psychological thriller, The Last Room on the Left, the snow-covered Catskills become more than just a picturesque backdrop—they transform into a claustrophobic nightmare where the line between reality and delusion blurs with each passing page. Kerry Walsh, a writer whose life is unraveling at the seams, retreats to the isolated Twilite Motel hoping to escape her demons and finish her overdue novel. What she finds instead is a frozen hand protruding from the snow and a mystery that threatens both her sanity and her life.
Konen, who previously delivered tight domestic suspense in works like You Should Have Told Me and All the Broken People, elevates her craft with this winter-bound thriller that asks: How reliable are our own perceptions when clouded by guilt, addiction, and isolation?
Layered Characters Trapped in Their Own Personal Hells
At the heart of The Last Room on the Left is Kerry Walsh, a deeply flawed protagonist whose alcoholism and self-sabotaging tendencies make her simultaneously frustrating and deeply human. Her struggle with sobriety—constantly undermined by her desperate need to escape both her thoughts and her actions—provides a psychological depth that grounds the novel’s more conventional thriller elements.
What truly distinguishes this novel is how Konen skillfully weaves the perspectives of multiple women whose lives intersect at this seemingly innocuous roadside motel:
- Kerry: A once-successful writer who betrayed her friend, lost her husband, and now doubts her own mind
- Siobhan: Kerry’s estranged friend who harbors resentment but carries her own creative burdens
- Allison: The confident friend whose life is cut short after she challenges male ego and entitlement
Each woman is rendered with empathy and complexity, their flaws as vivid as their strengths. When Konen shifts to Siobhan’s perspective during her earlier stay at the motel, we witness the same location transformed through different eyes—less a house of horrors than a crucible for creativity and reflection.
A Plot That Spirals Like a Winter Storm
The narrative structure of The Last Room on the Left mirrors its snowy setting—layers upon layers that gradually accumulate until the landscape is transformed. Konen expertly manipulates time, with the novel jumping between Kerry’s desperate February predicament and Siobhan’s January experiences, creating a disorienting effect that serves the story well.
The mystery unfolds at a methodical pace that might test impatient readers, but those who appreciate psychological complexity will find themselves rewarded. Key revelations include:
- Kerry’s discovery that the body she found—which keeps mysteriously disappearing—belongs to Allison, not Siobhan
- The gradually revealed backstory of Kerry’s betrayal that destroyed her friendship with Siobhan
- The true circumstances of Allison’s death, which speaks to the novel’s underlying themes about male fragility and violence
- The web of local connections that initially mask the killer’s identity
Konen demonstrates particular skill in her use of unreliable narration. Kerry’s alcohol-affected perception casts doubt on everything she witnesses, while flashbacks reveal crucial information at precisely the right moments to maintain tension. The result is a thriller that keeps readers genuinely uncertain about what’s real and what’s imagined until the final chapters.
A Meditation on Addiction, Truth, and Second Chances
Beyond its thriller framework, The Last Room on the Left offers a nuanced examination of addiction. Kerry’s relationship with alcohol isn’t simplified or sensationalized—it’s portrayed as a complex coping mechanism that both numbs her pain and intensifies her shame in an endless cycle. One particularly powerful passage encapsulates this dynamic:
“For me, drinking wasn’t only for escape. Sometimes I drank to make it all mean more, to give everything more life, to make the narrative of my real life feel as good and full as the curated one I posted on the screen.”
This exploration of substance abuse extends to the novel’s themes of perception and truth. When Kerry’s observations are repeatedly dismissed because of her drinking, Konen effectively illustrates how addiction not only affects one’s health but can strip away credibility and agency.
The novel also meaningfully engages with how women recover from betrayal—both by men and by other women. Siobhan and Kerry’s fractured friendship lies at the emotional core of the story, making the thriller elements feel consequential rather than merely sensational.
Atmospheric Writing That Chills
Konen’s prose excels in creating a palpable sense of foreboding. The Twilite Motel, with its Instagram-ready aesthetic that belies its isolation, becomes a character in itself. The author writes winter with particular skill—the snow isn’t just scenery but a force that traps, conceals, and ultimately reveals:
“About three feet of white stared back at me, drifted up against where the door had been closed. Holy shit. I stepped forward, the powder soft, and kicked away as much of it as I could, then shut the door behind me and locked it. The snow was still coming down—and hard. Flakes swirled around me, wind cold and whipping, as I shuffled through the snow and to the next door.”
These descriptive passages create an immersive reading experience where you can almost feel the bitter cold seeping through your clothes as you turn each page.
Where the Novel Falls Short
Despite its considerable strengths, The Last Room on the Left isn’t without flaws. Some elements that prevent it from achieving perfection include:
- Pacing issues: The middle section occasionally drags, particularly when cycling through similar scenarios of Kerry questioning what she’s seen
- Convenient coincidences: The connections between characters sometimes stretch credulity in service of the plot
- Character decisions: Kerry’s choice to drink despite her situation occasionally feels forced rather than organic to her character
- Underdeveloped secondary characters: Some supporting players, particularly Frank (Kerry’s estranged husband), feel more like plot devices than fully realized individuals
Additionally, the novel’s ending, while satisfying on a character level, wraps up a bit too neatly given the psychological complexity that precedes it. A more ambiguous conclusion might have better served the themes of perception and truth that run throughout.
Final Verdict: A Haunting Winter Read That Lingers
The Last Room on the Left succeeds as both a tense psychological thriller and a thoughtful examination of addiction, betrayal, and redemption. Konen has crafted a novel that transcends genre conventions by grounding its suspense in authentic human struggles.
The book stands as an impressive evolution of Konen’s work, showing greater ambition and psychological depth than her previous novels. Readers who enjoyed Megan Miranda’s Such a Quiet Place or Andrea Bartz’s We Were Never Here will find much to appreciate in Konen’s snowbound tale of suspicion and survival.
Four out of five stars for this chilling exploration of what happens when past mistakes literally come back from the frozen depths to haunt us. The Last Room on the Left is perfect for those winter nights when the wind howls outside your window and you begin to wonder what might be hiding beneath the pristine blanket of snow.
For Fans Of
- The Sanatorium by Sarah Pearse
- Rock Paper Scissors by Alice Feeney
- One by One by Ruth Ware
- The Shining by Stephen King (which Konen cleverly references in the novel)
The Last Room on the Left reminds us that sometimes the most terrifying monsters aren’t supernatural at all—they’re the mistakes we’ve made, the people we’ve hurt, and the truths we refuse to face. When you check into the Twilite Motel, prepare for a stay that will haunt you long after checkout time.
