What a deliciously dark and disturbing novel! At time incredibly funny, at other times quite unsettling, this exploration of grief and trauma doesn’t offer easy solutions but instead explores what shapes devotion and love might take in the hearts of broken characters who recognize their trauma but haven’t been able to navigate it in necessarily healthy ways.

The characters are really well-developed, including their quirky sense of humor and inside jokes that can only emerge when two people have an intimate knowledge of each other. What I found really refreshing was that while both characters recognized the damage that had been done to them, and to some extent were trying to mitigate it, they weren’t perfect little success stories. We could see aspects of the characters’ personalities that were born from their trauma, acts of emotional self-harm and dependency, that they didn’t recognize as such, which gave an overall tragic backdrop to their journey. While it is easy to fall into cliché when depicting victims/survivors of trauma and abuse these characters all felt real, and quite compelling.

The writing was fun, keeping us mostly in the mental-scape of a somewhat unreliable narrator, unsure if we can trust this interpretation of what was happening. The narration moved quickly, and was fun to read, never feeling forced or perfunctory. The pacing was quick, and the chapters structured in such a way as to encourage more and more reading. The writing conveyed the overarching senses of both manic and gloom, which really made for an almost uncomfortable read, in a good way. The line between reality and mania/trauma/delusion was always fuzzy, which kept the read as an uncomfortable witness to events that seemed to spiral out of control right from the beginning.

The story itself was intense, but also incredibly contained. It asks what it means to be haunted by our trauma as well as by our grief, and what it might take to exorcise those ghosts. It doesn’t offer a clinical or healthy answer, but instead shows offers what a desperate mind that feels everything slipping away might cling to as a path of salvation. In some ways the heightened reality and the possibility of (literal) haunting and metaphysical violence made the story more realistic, because it wasn’t offering a solution but an experience. This story is an intense story, bringing you into the mind of someone who is desperately reaching for happiness but held back by so many figurative (and maybe literal) ghosts that it seems an impossible dream. It was a lot of fun to read, even if at times it felt uncomfortable, because when facing loss and trauma sometimes discomfort is the point.

I want to thank NetGalley and Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, who provided a complimentary eARC in exchange for an honest review.

Ainslie Hogarth thanks her shrimps in the acknowledgements, for making her a better writer. I too would like to thank them, because Motherthing is one of the best books I have ever read, one of the best books ever written. Ready yourselves, because your next favourite unhinged woman novel is coming out in a little over two months!

Do I believe Motherthing is perfect? Yes.
To the point it should be taught as a masterclass in everything to do with writing? Yesssssss.

Everything, and I mean everything, about this book is perfect. The story, the meaning, the symbolism, the narration, the pacing, the character-building… If I’m forgetting something, rest assured that too is perfect.

Before I delve a bit more into how irrefutably wonderful Motherthing is, I want to address a few criticisms I saw. They pretty much came down to the premise of the plot, in context of the genre. It seems some people were disappointed that this is not The Haunting of Hill House. I believe people thought this would be a scary haunting story, because after all the haunting is the plot and this is, after all, categorised as horror. It seems people don’t necessarily agree that a book that is not scary can be horror; but it is indeed so. The problem is that “horror” is far too broad a catch-all of a genre, and I so wish we’d divide it into more specific genres. I won’t spoil anything, but while this isn’t a scary ghost story, it’s very well a horror book — one that is safe to read, even if you’re generally a paranormal coward like me!

What Hogarth did was ingenious: she boiled the symbolism of hauntings down to its very essence, and leaned into the philosophy of it, the psyche of the devolving human mind . . . and she turned it into a flawless novel.

Motherthing may not be the reader’s nightmare, but it sure is Abby’s. Abby Lamb was hopeful to be liberated from her mother-in-law, but Laura’s suicide does not break the curse; on the contrary, to Abby’s horror, Laura is more dangerous dead than she was alive to her son Ralph and to Abby’s happy family. With her husband in the ever tightening grasp of a major depressive episode, and the approaching threat of losing her favourite resident at the care facility where she works, Abby Lamb must take matters into her own hands.

But why is Abby so desperate to save Ralph? And why is she clinging so hard onto Mrs Bondy, the elderly care facility resident? Through Abby’s thoughts and memories, we discover the answers. But is Abby sane and trustworthy enough? One thing is for sure: Motherthing is not a mere exorcism story.

As the title suggests, motherhood is the central theme to the story. Both Abby and Ralph are survivors of an abusive mother; Hogarth questions this notion of survival: have you really survived it, or is it still clinging onto you, is it still gnawing at your mind, still defining you, still hurting you?

Another theme, from the very beginning, is that of the eye. I’d really recommend paying attention to the pattern, if only to admire Hogarth’s mastery of prose.

And finally, there is the third recurrent theme of fecal matter. From the very beginning till the very end, our main character and narrator Abby refers to the matter and the act many times. If there is a deeper meaning behind it, it was lost on me; but it also doesn’t matter, because …

… the imagery in Motherthing is often extremely surreal. A bit of the horror element comes from these bizarre, gory similes and descriptions. And here again lies the genius of Hogarth, because as surreal as the imagery is, it’s perfectly evocative. I don’t think I’ve read the way things can feel like described better than they were in Motherthing. (Or is it concerning that I found them accurate and relatable? Don’t answer, I might not be ready for it!)

The surreal imagery, coupled with the ocular pattern, kept making me think of Un Chien Andalou. For me, this worked like a charm: it enhanced my experience of and delight in vividly imagining the scenes in Abby’s mind.

Two particular scenes reminded me of two other works that I love. Because these scenes are in the very first chapter, and these associations don’t actually reveal anything about the plot, I’m sharing them with peace. A woman presenting Ralph with a business card reminded me of ‘the foreigner’ approaching Bezdomny and Berlioz in Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita; and another woman’s “opal eye” reminded me of the “vulture eye” of the old man in Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart. Again, I loved that my mind went to these other works of fiction, because they exacerbated the ominous feeling for me. I really think the latter association was intended — maybe because I’d love for it to be an homage to the best macabre writer ever.

I know I’m raving a lot, but that’s the euphoria of having just finished an amazing book. I’m sure all bookish people are familiar with this giddy feeling, and can forgive the broken structure of my review.

Everything comes together to make Motherthing oh so exceptional — it’s the perfect blend, the perfect mixture, all ingredients just the right dosage… or shall I say, it’s the perfect recipe! It’s the whole that makes Motherthing a masterpiece, so I can’t just point to one element. However, I feel that the biggest contributor is the narration.

First person narration (especially present tense), in my opinion, can be very tricky. It relies entirely on the authenticity of the character’s voice, and requires a careful selection of how much to say without either sounding amateurish, or unrealistically going into the omniscient territory of third person narration. Hogarth’s mastery of her craft shows here too.

Hogarth uses the first person narration tool to its full potential, and builds a fully realised inner and material life for Abby. Abby’s voice is not only believable, convincing, authentic, uniquely Abby, but also so vulnerable, so sentimental that you can’t help but deeply care about her. You sympathise with her, to the point you get angry on her behalf. This, I believe, requires incredible skills. Hogarth doesn’t once falter: from the beginning to the end, it’s all Abby’s voice.

There are times when third person writing is used, but because Abby’s voice is so fully realised, we feel that Abby herself is narrating these scenes as if a third person narrator. This impression is enhanced by the fact that the format of the writing changes to that of a screenplay, although thoughts are described more often than actions and setting. For the most part, this screenplay format is used for memories; only twice this is broken. The first time this format is used for something that’s not Abby’s memory, it serves to create an out-of-body experience. The second time it’s done, it gives a fairytale feeling. I found all three uses of this format purely genius. I’m still in awe!

Here I want to touch on another criticism I saw: that it was a drawback that we didn’t get to meet Laura before her death to decide on our own what kind of person she was. But that’s unimportant to the premise and the plot, it doesn’t matter if Abby’s perception is somehow warped (which I don’t think it is about Laura, because the whole story is essentially about her lingering negative influence) because Motherthing is entirely about Abby’s perception. This is not an objective account, and it never claims to be. I doubt it’d be as compelling a story as it is, if it had any objectivity to it.

I want to end on the same note as I began with: the horror genre, and where Motherthing stands. As dark as it is in its events and imagery, Motherthing isn’t a grave book. Its magnificent (I’d love to insert about a hundred more adoring adjectives here, I’m simply smitten) cover should be a hint: this is camp. This is camp done right, this is camp done right on an exemplary level! It wouldn’t look out of place in a Jeff Koons exhibition! As someone who would happily die on the hill of defending kitsch and its genius, it surely wasn’t a surprise that I fell in love with the cover, and it surely isn’t a surprise that I fell in love with the book itself. Motherthing is one of the most unique books I’ve ever read.

I don’t reread books, but I’d reread Motherthing. I don’t think I’ll be coming out of its enchantment any time soon.

I received an uncorrected proof, and I’ll be sending all the spelling errors I found to the publisher privately — most of them were missing spaces between words and an additional letter before some, which will be underlined by a computer too; there were a few that a computer probably wouldn’t flag, like “ATM machine” and the misuse of “who’s” and “whose” at times. I’m sure they’ll all be corrected before publication!

I can’t thank NetGalley and Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group (and Vintage in particular) enough for the DRC. My eternal thanks for giving me the opportunity to read such an amazing book! And of course, to Ainslie Hogarth, for writing this masterpiece — I can’t wait for whatever other twisted stories are in your wonderful head!

Read this. Please, please, PLEASE read this. Motherthing is dark and humorous, lightly spooky and strangely, somehow it is completely endearing.

Abby is quirky, extremely sweet and likeable and not quite toxic but a tad bit unhinged. Abby is a caregiver in a fancy nursing home and she’s so kind and tender to her patients. She’s also incredibly in love with her husband and would do anything (and with that ending, I mean anything) for him. Ralph is consumed with despair over his mother Laura’s recent suicide and while his mother is gone, she hasn’t quite departed. He’s become reclusive and insists his mother is still there, staying in the basement with her and continuing to nurture the already unhealthy relationship they had. Laura never accepted Abby as her daughter in law and Abby can feel Laura’s grip on Ralph sucking the life out of him. Abby knows she’s losing him and she has to do something to save him as well as their relationship.

This book was so weird and so captivating. I was absorbed in this, and read it in a few hours. I just couldn’t pull myself away. If you’re looking for something light on horror and high on weird, you’ve got to read this. Motherthing will be published in September, I hope you consider picking this one up! Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for my eARC.

Man, Ainslie Hogarth’s Motherthing is weird—and I love it.

After the death of her mother-in-law Laura, Abby Lamb lives with her husband in Ralph’s late mother’s former home—a dark, gloomy, grimy residence haunted not only by the dead woman’s memory, but also by Abby’s guilt (and Ralph’s ongoing trauma). Abby, a caregiver at a long-term care facility, has stolen an opal ring off her deceased mother-in-law’s finger, and the missing ring has not gone unnoticed by Ralph or, apparently, by Laura’s ghost.

What begins as a grief-stricken guilt journey quietly morphs into a dark unraveling of the female psych as we begin to understand that Laura—dead or alive—is only one facet in the gemstone of Abby’s turmoil. Her traumatic childhood, her difficult relationship with her mother-in-law, her inability to conceive (and how this puts her at odds with her colleagues), and even her over-attached relationship to a patient at the care facility all provide glimpses into Abby’s deeply deteriorated mental state.

There are warning signs, to be sure, of Abby’s mental state, and harbingers of an inevitably unhappy ending, but what makes Motherthing so compelling is that there’s no one moment when we realize, yep, shit is about to hit the fan. So well-oiled is Hogarth’s pen that it’s easy to get swept away in the chaos and spinning nightmare in Abby’s brain—her manic responses, her imbalanced and intermixed violence and compassion. Abby is a stand-in for so many women—those with unhealthy mothers, with unhealthy relationships with their partners and friends and bodies. We know she’s no hero, and yet she’s all of us, and we root for her despite the horrible things she does. After all, when has each of us not been desperate enough to do something terrible for the ones we love?

Campy, bizarre, and female, Motherthing is too relatable to be entirely comfortable, and that’s what makes it such delicious reading.

Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group for providing this title in exchange for an honest review!

The feminine urge to go insane.

It seems that lately I've sort of accidentally picked a series of books where women have had enough. They try to fit in, hold on to the ideal of the good woman, the good wife, the good mother, and they fail, and they realize the game was rigged all along, and they either refuse to play anymore, or they decide to keep playing by their own rules, at any cost, because what does it mean if you've given your entire life to this one thing and it was all for nothing?

There's a thoughtful yet dark way of doing this, and a cheesy, shallow way of doing this. Motherthing fits into the first category.

This book initially caught my eye with that delicious vintage-style cover and intriguing title, but the summary, promising horror of the haunting type, made me request it. Darkly funny, disturbing to the core, provocative, this is a story of a woman struggling with generational trauma and trying to break free, to find out who she could be, and unwilling to let go of that ideal no matter what. And yet, it was a hard book to rate. I finished not fully set on whether I liked it or was disappointed by it, although I guess both things can technically be true.

Before I go any further, the book deals with tough topics, often in very graphic ways, such as suicide, self-harm, domestic violence, rape, as well as mental health issues and things I can't mention without spoiling the plot.

The story starts on the night Abby and her husband Ralph find Laura, Ralph's mother, dead by suicide on their basement. We soon find out that Laura has been living with untreated mental illness for all of Ralph's life, which had declined recently and called for Ralph and Abby to move in with her. Abby is most definitely not sorry to see her go, as Laura is yet another mother figure who refused to be it for Abby. Abby craves motherhood: where she can't be a daughter, she will be a mother, fulfilling that role with Mrs. Bondy, a woman at the care home she works at, while her and Ralph's child comes along. Except, Mrs. Bondy might be taken away from her, Laura isn't quite gone yet, and she's trying to take Ralph with her, leaving Abby unmoored from the identity she's been trying so hard to find - if she lets that happen.

The tone of the narration was very particular and not for everyone - it reminded me of Carrie Fisher's writing, a sort of deeply internal, often errant dialogue. Personally, I tend to enjoy it and I did here. I also love characters who are weirdos in a genuine, nobody-wants-to-admit-it relatable way, not in a manic pixie girl way, and that's what Abby and Ralph were like.

I would say the story felt more like general fiction for most of it than horror or thriller, although it indubitably took a turn towards the end. I don't mind slow-burn horror stories that focus on the characters as long as the tension is there but, except for very few scenes, we barely feel the haunting. The biggest indication of it is Ralph's changed behaviour, which could easily be chalked up to grief were it not for the magical realism of the ending. This was my biggest gripe, that it failed to feel like a true horror/ghost story.

I settled on 4 stars because the writing style worked for me, I was definitely hooked enough to finish it, and the turn it took left me gaping and even questioning the narrator due to the chapter style the author chose. I also especially enjoyed this exploration of the role and expectations of women in Western society.

This book is for you if you enjoy dark humour, don't have a problem with sensitive topics and graphic scenes of gore, and enjoy psychological horror stories.

3 stars for creativity, originality, and sheer weirdness.
I almost can’t decide who was evil and who was good. Interesting “cure” for possession. Definitely some twists and turns I never saw coming. Not my favorite horror read of the year but still a decent showing.

I struggled with my rating for this one. I loved the writing style, it really is fantastic prose that will embed its imagery and atmosphere deep into your brain. I enjoy dark humor but not all the humor landed well and some of it just felt cringey and forced. The story itself was not what I expected going in and the horrors in this one are incredibly human and deeply heartbreaking. With its journey of generational trauma and human neglect , I found this book just so incredibly sad. It left me feeling awful, but that just speaks to the effectiveness of its horrifying storytelling. Ultimately I gave it 4 stars because there is an undeniable talent at work here. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

This was a whacky, bizarre, and sometimes comical horror story about protecting the one you love! I went in already a huge fan of the cover page and the vibe it brought me didn’t disappoint. It’s a very odd, up the wall type of story as the main character, Abby, has to save her husband, Ralph, from the ghost of her mother in law! It starts to haunt them in different ways in turn making Abby realize she’s the only who can save them both from the lingering evil that her mother in law is inflicting upon them. I really enjoyed how the writer wrote this as it felt like I was reading the main character’s real thoughts. Sometimes thoughts can make no sense, especially when you’re angry, but she words them in a way that makes you chuckle and nod at how realistic it is, even with the outlandish plot line in motion. It was a fun and quick read for me, and I would definitely recommend this for any horror fans that enjoy sharp wit with a bit of laughter and death.

3.5

I want to thank Netgalley and the publisher for a copy of this book for review.

I really wanted to enjoy this more than I did. I absolutely LOVE the cover of this book. The artwork is so creepy,and pulls you in. Sadly the book didn't quite do it for me as much. It felt choppy,and a little all over the place. I many times felt a little lost in the story,and not fully in a good way. I felt I couldn't fully keep track of what was going on or had happend. I literally felt lost in the story. I did like that I laughed a few times, as well as having an uneasy feeling, but to me the story didn't hold up as much as I was hoping.

Honestly, this is a difficult book to review—it’s absolutely bizarre, and I mean that in a good way. The outline of the story (Abby’s awful mother in law dies, and she may be haunting them) makes it sound like a by the numbers haunted house book but it goes off the rails quickly and never circles back around to anything resembling predictable. It’s also gross, gleefully so, preoccupied with bodies, bodily functions, and the boundaries of human disgust.

The title comes from the famous wire monkey experiment. If you take baby monkeys away from their mothers, they will cling to a monkey form made of cloth and wire: a “motherthing” rather than a real mother. Abby believes that all poorly mothered children will design their own motherthing, just enough of externalized feelings to help them survive. The novel is filled with wounded characters who were badly mothered, and mulls over the question of what makes a mother at all, versus a motherthing. It plays with the categories of mother, baby, and thing in a way that’s both fascinating and disturbing. I recommend this novel to anyone who likes their horror with a hefty dose of weird and gross.

Thanks to the publisher and to NetGalley for an early copy of this book.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for an early copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

My Selling Pitch:
Do you love campy, kooky, femme horror? Do you love a book drenched in aesthetic? Do you love those writers who just aren’t lazy and riddle their books with callbacks so it’s neat and juicy?

Pre-reading:
Okay, but this cover! It’s so gorgeous.

Thick of it:
This book doesn’t punctuate dialogue and it’s going to get confusing fast. Oh, now we punctuate again. Someone else mentioned how they wince at sodas lately: the seltzer girl on Facebook. Spot the bitey Scorpio. The language in this book is lovely. Little literary delight. I love winter. This book reminds me of Nightbitch and Bunny. Love the voice in this book. It’s aggressive and atmospheric and hyper-vivid. Mist off the wet-down pavement on movie sets vibes. Oh god, articulate my exact anxiety there, book. Dialogue in this book is so good. I really like this book. It’s that lovely bittersweet, angry femme experience. Reminds me a bit of Gone Girl too. And obviously My Year of Rest and Relaxation. Yeah, I’d fall in love like that too. Sheesh. This would make an excellent miniseries. Oh little heart squeeze, I love this dialogue. I want to go for a drink with this author, fuck. It’s my favorite kind of horror: fantastical realism because it lets you choose if you want to go supernatural or root it in reality-based fact. So good. The callbacks to the shit-filled hot tubs are masterful. Oh god, fucking men. Like fuck women for not protecting their children, but fuck men. Fucking detritus every time. I hate that word. This book makes me smile.

Post-reading:
What a masterpiece. It’s a little bit- I don’t even know what to say. She’s snappy. She’s fun. Is it my favorite book ever? No. Is it getting added to my favorites? Yes. It’s going to be a little hard to recommend because it’s going to take a niche audience to properly appreciate it. I think a lot of people will get grossed out or think it’s too off the walls to enjoy it. I think the formatting will throw some people, but I really enjoyed it. You’re gonna have to like those literary darling books to enjoy this while also not expecting dark academia because this is not that. If that’s your genre, if you truly just like good writing that almost reads like an essay or a short story, you’re gonna love this. Also, you’ve got to have a bit of a strong stomach because Miss Author will try to turn it, but I like that. I also just think it’s feminine; I don’t think you’re gonna have a lot of men get the same enjoyment that women will get from this book. Also, holy fuck, would I love a miniseries from this book. She’s perfect for it.

Who should read this:
Campy horror fans
Femme aesthetic fans who can tolerate gore

Do I want to reread this:
Yes-eventually. I think she’ll be fresh for a good while.

Similar books:
* Bunny by Mona Awad-campy, femme horror
* Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder-campy, femme horror
* The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires-campy horror with a housewife cast
* You Have A Friend in 10A: Stories by Maggie Shipstead-feminist short stories
* Her Body and Other Parties: Stories by Carmen Maria Machado-feminist short stories
* Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn-angry femme has a mental breakdown
* My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Otessa Moshfegh-aesthetic and feminine mental breakdown

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC to review!
Rating (on a scale of 1 to 5, 5 being excellent)
Quality of writing: 3
Pace: 2
Plot development: 2
Characters: 2
Enjoyability: 2
Ease of Reading: 3

Overall rating: 2 out of 5

I am honestly not sure what the heck I just read. Some words that come to mind:
Dark
Terrifying
Disturbing
Grim
Depressing

This book is definitely not for everyone. There are so many triggers, and I honestly felt physically ill at times.

There are explicit graphic elements that are just genuinely revolting.

I can’t rate this book poorly because it was genuinely well-written. But it shook me to the core.

My thanks to NetGalley and Knopf Doubleday for the opportunity to read and review this book.

I'm really not sure where to start with this because my brain is all over the place. So everyone safely step into the car and buckle up. This was recommended to me by quite a few people because they know that I live for the weird. I love the classic horror look to the cover. It definitely reminds me of a pulp book that I would have read while drinking a glass of bourbon while smoking a Virginia Slim. Ah, the good old days.

Getting into this was difficult for me. I thought it was going to go one way and then it went another. It went in a direction where it was easy for me to lose interest. It was an okay read. Parts were very funny and I found myself snorting with laughter. The funny moments are what kept this book alive. I also enjoyed the moments where you couldn't tell if things were actually happening or was it all in their minds. That's always fun. There was nothing new here and it didn't blow my mind like people claimed that it would. It just didn't do it for me.

Just remember that losing your mind is fun when you're haunted by a loved one.

A strong blend of horror and humor at its pitchest black. Deals with heavy topics that can be quite disturbing, and one cannot help but feel a twinge of complicity when laughing. But Abby's inner monologue is hilarious, and it's fun to read a story with such a quirky, unpredictable main character.

Have you ever read a book and you have absolutely no clue what's happening? I feel like that's exactly what happened to me with Motherthing. This was certainly an...experience. So we've got Abby, who's desperate for a mother figure and who yearns to be a mother herself, but all the women in her life are crap. Her issues run so deep that she works as a caretaker and she calls one of the elderly women "her baby". It's kind of bizarre, although honestly? It's a whole lot bizarre.

First of all, I really think either this book should include trigger warnings or the author should share them at some point because it deals with some really heavy topics that aren't mentioned in the summary. Second, I really think this book isn't being marketed correctly because it's not really horror. Obviously I'm not a marketing expert, but Motherthing feels like a dark comedy mixed with supernatural elements mixed with a fever dream. At times it felt more like reading a mommy-focused version of Death Becomes Her so while I was extremely disturbed, especially by the chicken a la king, I wasn't exactly terrified or scared by the contents of the book.

I'm still giving it three stars because maybe the author wanted to use the shock factor and it definitely worked. Also, I loved the narration style. It was like a string of never-ending consciousness and truly felt like Abby was talking to herself through the whole thing.

I love the cover of this book and I love the idea of the story. There were moments I was 100% hooked and then others that I felt like I was really having to push myself to continue. Overall a good short read.

Thanks to NetGalley for a copy of this book. I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

What an interesting book. Not sure I’ve read anything like it - certainly one of a kind. While this book was quirky and I never saw where the story was going, there were times where reading it felt like a chore. Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group for the ARC!

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I picked up Motherthing by Ainslie Hogarth; the description promised horror with a tinge of humor. The cover illustration caught my eye, I’ll admit, the colors and the comic book style images seemed to play into what I was looking for. When’ I finally began my journey through the aftermath of Abby’s mother in law’s suicide, it seemed very straightforward; Abby, the loving, caring wife, tries to get through to her grieving husband as he grows more distant, finally admitting he sees the ghost of his mother appearing. Where’s the horror, you ask? Well, Abby is not a reliable narrator it turns out, As we move with her through through the story, her biases, her desires and her memories play out and the horror builds as we realize the horror we expected is not the horror we’re getting. Gripping and fast-paced, Motherthing was an exciting and fun read.

The voice in this is so strong and unique, the dark humor so dark and so humorous, the strangeness so strange, I was absorbed every second.

Every metaphor was perfectly chosen, every object and person fit right in. It was like Abby lives in a whole different world where her thoughts and her actions make perfect sense when looking through her eyes, remembering her memories.