Ashley Winstead’s debut novel, In My Dreams I Hold a Knife, delivers a chilling exploration of ambition, obsession, and the dark underbelly of college friendships. Set against the backdrop of the elite southern Duquette University, Winstead masterfully weaves a tale of murder, betrayal, and the devastating consequences of unchecked desire. Through her protagonist Jessica Miller’s homecoming journey, we witness how the past can never truly be outrun, especially when it’s soaked in blood.
The novel oscillates between two timelines: the idyllic college years that gradually darken, and a present-day reunion weekend that forces six estranged friends to confront their shared history and the unsolved murder that shattered their bond. With each chapter, Winstead peels back layers of deception until we’re left with the raw, uncomfortable truth about human nature and the lengths people will go to protect themselves.
As a debut thriller, this novel establishes Winstead as a formidable voice in the psychological suspense genre, combining elements of dark academia with a razor-sharp examination of ambition and class dynamics. However, while the premise and atmosphere shine brightly, certain character developments and revelations occasionally feel contrived in service of the plot’s many twists.
Setting and Atmosphere: The Gothic Campus of Duquette University
Winstead crafts Duquette University as a character in its own right—a place of beauty and menace, where ivy creeps up ancient brick walls and magnolia trees cast heavy shadows. The Gothic architecture of Blackwell Tower, modeled after Notre-Dame cathedral, looms over the campus as both literal and metaphorical centerpiece. The university’s motto, “We will change you, body and soul,” proves disturbingly prophetic for our protagonist and her circle of friends.
The setting expertly channels dark academia aesthetics while avoiding becoming a mere backdrop. Instead, the campus becomes a pressure cooker for ambition and status anxiety:
“I would step inside that door. Dive into the past. I would find Heather’s killer and be healed.”
Duquette represents both escape and imprisonment for its students. For Jessica, it’s a place where she can reinvent herself away from her troubled home life. For others like Frankie, it’s where dreams are both born and crushed under the weight of expectations. The author particularly excels at contrasting the pristine, polished facade of the university with the ugly truths it conceals.
Character Development: A Study in Ambition and Insecurity
The novel’s greatest strength lies in its complex, deeply flawed characters, particularly Jessica Miller. She is a fascinating protagonist—neither hero nor villain, but something messier in between. Her obsession with success and validation drives the narrative forward, even as it repels the reader. Winstead doesn’t ask us to like Jessica but to understand the societal forces that shaped her desperate ambition.
The supporting cast is equally compelling:
Mint: The golden boy whose perfect exterior masks rage and insecurity
Caro: The loyal friend desperate to belong but always on the periphery
Coop: The rebellious outsider who sees through the pretense
Jack: The good-hearted Eagle Scout with secrets of his own
Frankie: The athlete trapped between expectation and authenticity
Heather: The magnetic force whose death reverberates through everyone’s lives
Each character embodies different facets of ambition and privilege, creating a microcosm of class anxiety. However, some secondary characters occasionally slip into familiar archetypes, particularly in the college flashbacks, which can make certain revelations feel less impactful than intended.
Narrative Structure: Dual Timelines and Unreliable Memory
Winstead employs dual timelines with surgical precision. The “now” narrative takes place over a single, explosive homecoming weekend, while the “then” sections gradually reveal how these once-inseparable friends became estranged. This structure creates mounting tension as the past and present inexorably collide.
What elevates this approach is Jessica’s unreliable narration. Her selective memories, shaped by trauma and self-preservation, force readers to question everything she presents as fact:
“The black hole inside me was spinning, memories spilling out, faster than I could push them down.”
The concept of repressed memory becomes both plot device and thematic exploration. Jessica’s “black hole”—the void at her center where inconvenient truths are buried—serves as powerful metaphor for how we all curate our personal narratives to maintain our self-image.
Themes: The Dark Side of Ambition and Class Anxiety
Beyond the murder mystery, In My Dreams I Hold a Knife is an incisive examination of class, ambition, and the American dream. Jessica’s desperate striving stems from watching her Harvard-educated father crumble under the weight of his own unfulfilled potential. Her fixation on being “exceptional” rather than “mediocre” drives her to increasingly destructive choices.
The novel astutely portrays the invisible hierarchies of college life—the sorority rankings, the social capital of dating the right person, the desperate performances of belonging. Jessica articulates this painful awareness:
“I was learning there wasn’t a second of her life Heather didn’t feel supremely confident. It was intoxicating, normally. Now, I felt a stab of envy.”
Winstead doesn’t shy away from depicting the dark psychological toll of feeling perpetually second-best, particularly through Jessica’s relationship with Dr. Garvey. This subplot addresses power dynamics and exploitation in academia with unflinching clarity, making it one of the novel’s most disturbing and resonant elements.
Pacing and Suspense: A Masterclass in Tension
The pacing of In My Dreams I Hold a Knife is relentless yet measured. Winstead strategically doles out revelations, using each one to deepen the mystery rather than resolve it. The homecoming weekend provides a ticking-clock framework that intensifies as Jessica realizes she’s being manipulated by someone with an agenda.
Particularly effective is how Winstead builds suspense around multiple questions simultaneously:
Who killed Heather?
What happened between Jessica and her friends?
What is Jessica hiding from herself?
This layered approach keeps readers engaged even when certain plot developments stretch credibility. The final act, set at the top of Blackwell Tower, delivers a genuinely shocking climax that feels both inevitable and surprising—the hallmark of effective thriller writing.
Writing Style: Razor-Sharp Prose with Psychological Depth
Winstead’s prose is sleek and propulsive, often reading like a fever dream as Jessica’s careful façade begins to crack. The author excels at rendering the characters’ interior lives, particularly Jessica’s desperate rationalization of her worst impulses:
“It was in a week. A week, a week, a week. I had to have the letter. I had to win. There was only one more chance for us. The door was closing.”
The writing seamlessly transitions between past and present, mirroring Jessica’s increasingly fragmented psyche. Particularly impressive is how Winstead uses language to signal shifts in power dynamics—when Jessica feels in control, the prose becomes crisp and assured; when she’s vulnerable, it grows frenetic and disjointed.
Critiques: Occasional Character Inconsistencies and Convenient Plot Points
Despite its strengths, the novel occasionally relies on convenient plot developments that strain credibility. Some characters make decisions that serve the story’s twists more than their established personalities. The coincidental timing of certain revelations, particularly in the final confrontation, feels engineered rather than organic.
Additionally, while Jessica is brilliantly rendered, some secondary characters receive less consistent development. Courtney, in particular, veers toward stereotype as the mean-girl antagonist, though her pill addiction adds needed dimension to her character.
The novel’s ending, while satisfying on a plot level, leaves some thematic threads dangling. Jessica’s moral reckoning feels incomplete, raising questions about whether the story ultimately reinforces or critiques the toxic ambition it depicts throughout.
Conclusion: A Promising Debut with a Sharp Edge
In My Dreams I Hold a Knife announces Ashley Winstead as a formidable new voice in psychological suspense. Despite occasional missteps, the novel succeeds on the strength of its atmospheric setting, complex protagonist, and unflinching examination of class and ambition.
Readers who enjoy dark academia settings like Donna Tartt’s The Secret History or twisted friendships like in Gillian Flynn’s works will find much to appreciate here. Winstead brings her own distinct vision to these familiar elements, creating a campus thriller that feels both classic and contemporary.
The novel’s greatest achievement is its willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about human nature—our capacity for self-deception, our desperate need for validation, and how easily our moral boundaries can shift under pressure. Jessica Miller’s journey may not end in redemption, but it offers something more valuable: a mirror that reflects our own darkest impulses back at us.
Strengths:
Atmospheric campus setting
Complex, morally ambiguous protagonist
Skilled handling of dual timelines
Incisive examination of class and ambition
Propulsive pacing and genuine suspense
Weaknesses:
Some secondary characters lack consistent development
Occasional plot conveniences that strain credibility
Certain thematic questions left unresolved
In My Dreams I Hold a Knife marks an impressive debut from Ashley Winstead, who demonstrates a keen understanding of psychological complexity and the dark undercurrents of elite institutions. Despite minor flaws, this is a thriller that lingers in the mind long after the final page—much like the memories Jessica Miller can never quite bury.