Hothouse Bloom by Austyn Wohlers

Hothouse Bloom is one of those rare books that pulled me in slowly and then refused to let go. At first, I wasn’t sure what to expect from a story about a young painter, Anna, who retreats to her grandfather’s old apple orchard. But very quickly, the orchard itself became a living, breathing character for me—lush, unpredictable, and strangely haunting. What I loved most was how the book captured the tension between escape and responsibility. Anna goes to the orchard to lose herself, to leave behind the pressures of her old life, but reality keeps creeping in. Bills have to be paid, the harvest needs workers, and even her attempt at isolation becomes complicated by the presence of Jan, an old friend whose warmth unsettles her carefully built solitude. Their relationship felt tender and real, adding another layer of emotional weight to Anna’s choices. The writing is gorgeous—lyrical without being overdone. Some passages made me stop and reread just to enjoy the rhythm of the words. At times, the story feels dreamlike, almost surreal, which I think is part of its beauty. It’s not a fast-paced read, and it doesn’t try to be. Instead, it’s the kind of book that rewards you for slowing down and sitting with it. I’ll admit, if you’re looking for a straightforward plot, this might feel a little too abstract. But for me, that’s exactly what made it so powerful. It’s less about events and more about atmosphere, emotion, and the strange pull between freedom and connection. By the end, Hothouse Bloom left me feeling both unsettled and inspired—like I’d just stepped out of a dream. A bold, beautiful debut I won’t forget anytime soon.