This is the kind of book I'm so glad I took my time with. The real bleakness and intensity of this book comes from Williams's beautiful and winding prose. There's a tenderness within The Doloriad even while its subject matter is grim and heartbreaking. I want to call this Appalachian gothic, but I don't know if that's a thing.

DNF'd at 50%. I really disliked this. The subject matter had my stomach rolling and I'm usually open to reading anything, but it was so messed up and weird and I kept asking myself "what's the message?"

Definitely a unique voice for a debut author. Subject matter was a little jarring, but the writing was artful. Would be interested to see what else they do next.

Objectively i can see this is a great book. It's being taken about a lot and I'm happy to promote it especially as it's ended up with one of my favourite UK indie publishers Dead Ink. However, personally it wasn't to my taste, there's a lot of body horror and sort of abstract emotion and I found it hard to connect to

This is a strange book and the author definitely gets all of the creativity points. The writing is lush, packed with grotesque and vividly horrifying imagery of a post-catastrophic world where few survive. Though the environmental event that decimates the population is rather ambiguous (was it a fire? A flood?), the world that remains is poisoned and so are it’s inhabitants. The Matriarch wises to recreate the world in her own image and uses her children and their children to repopulate the new world. As the power begins to shift and the Matriarch’s world behinds to crumble we’re left to wonder - is the cost of survival one worth paying?

This is not an easy book to get through, but it is rewarding. I found myself reading and then rereading several times - the book is written in large chunks with few paragraph breaks, but rereading these passages helps solidify the many (many) WTF moments. This is a hard book to review in terms of who I would recommend this to. If you like beautifully written, taboo stories with really weird humor then this might be the book for you.

Definitely look up TWs because there are a lot. Not limited to incest, rape and body horror.

Thank you to NetGalley and FSG for a review copy. I will definitely be checking our more from this author in the future.

A blistering debut, strange and uncompromising. I don't know if I *liked* the book -- the knotty prose and density of it all were ultimately exhausting to me -- but I sure as hell admired it.

this was a weird, dense, strange book that i want to reread. a story about an incestuous quasi-Czech post-apocalyptic colony written like a biblical parable, it's the sort of thing that i don't often read but i was surprised by how long williams was able to sustain her style. i think this book won't be for everyone, but if you like close-reading, are or have been an astudious English major or are in the mood for weird tale you most certainly won't 'get', i would say give it ago !

Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux (MCD x FSG Originals) on March 1, 2022

The Doloriad is an ugly story told in beautiful but bewildering prose. My reaction to much of The Doloriad was “ick.” My reaction to the rest of the story was “WTF?” More patient and intelligent readers might take more value from The Doloriad than I mined from it.

The characters believe themselves to be “the last humans ever,” although some suspect, with no real evidence, that other humans have survived whatever apocalyptic catastrophe has destroyed civilization and contaminated the environment. No other people have been seen for at least a couple of generations. The characters live in an encampment on the edge of an empty Prague from which they scavenge. A woman known as The Matriarch has made it her mission to repopulate the planet, a mission that must be based on incest in the absence of abundant breeding stock. Incest produced Dolores, a sad creature with no legs and obvious cognitive deficits. When the Matriarch leaves Dolores in the forest, either as a sacrifice or in the hope that unseen neighbors will find her and breed with her, the community sees it as a sign when Dolores rolls or uses her pudgy arms to crawl back home. Whether Dolores encountered other humans and was rejected, whether her return portends an invasion by outsiders, whether Dolores is simply tenacious, is the subject of unresolved debate.

One of the Matriarch’s brothers is a schoolmaster who lives apart from the family. A large man with no legs (a trait that runs in the family), the schoolmaster believes that “the history of the world is the history of cruelty.” He wants to cocoon himself in a mound with moths. His reasoning is obscure (it has something to do with rebirth), although few of the characters are capable of rational thought. Believing himself guided by a “mysterious power,” the schoolmaster makes a discovery that renews conjecture that the encampment’s residents are not alone in the world. Whether that is true, like most other questions a reader might have, is left unanswered.

The lack of any explanation for the novel’s central events is frustrating. Perhaps Missouri Williams intended to make a point by creating so much bewilderment, or perhaps she was too lazy to invent answers to obvious questions. Since the novel’s twisty (and sometimes nearly impenetrable) prose does not suggest laziness, I suspect Williams intended to leave the reader in the shoes filled by the characters, surrounded by circumstances and events that they cannot comprehend. If that was her intent, the absence of explanation is no less frustrating to readers who know that writers, unlike characters, have the godlike power to explain things, even if they choose to keep “but why?” a secret.

Some of the characters ask whether survival has any point, if there is any reason to repopulate a world that humanity destroyed and will probably destroy again. This, I imagine, is the grim moral lesson of The Doloriad. If we destroy humanity’s home, humanity does not deserve a second chance.

One of the girls is learning to be a storyteller but her stories are modern fairytales of Ivy League schools and incest. In the ugliest scene, Dolores is raped and repeatedly kicked by her brother Jan, who doesn’t seem to need the release since he’s been having (more or less) consensual sex with his other sisters. The siblings worry that Jan will take charge as the Matriarch grows weak. Whether that will happen is another unanswered question.

The characters seem to have television (although how they are finding usable fuel for their generator after two generations without refineries or gas stations is unclear); they watch videocassettes of an old show called Get Acquinas in Here in the Matriarch’s attempt to impose “some kind of order” on “their blank river of time.” The television version of Acquinas dispensed ethical wisdom on his show, but by the novel’s end he has apparently become a character in the book, or at least an observer of the other characters. Acquinas also argues with a philosophical sheep. I’m not sure what that was all about.

In fact, I’m not sure what most of the novel is about. To be fair, I lost interest long before the sheep and Acquinas began to converse. The novel’s long, rambling, dense paragraphs will put off some readers. They did nothing to enhance my appreciation of the story. I must admit that my mind kept wandering. Maybe I was distracted by Russia’s war with Ukraine and other dismal world events of the sort that might lead to the post-apocalyptic setting that Williams creates. At least at this moment, I would rather escape dark reality than read about an even darker fictional future, particularly a future with philosophical sheep. Since I might not have given the book fair consideration, I am tempted to recommend it with reservations, but I can’t find that degree of fairness in my heart. Literary and ancient historical allusions abound for those who wish to decode them. Readers with strong stomachs and infinite patience might find Williams’ unfinished ideas and evocative prose sufficient to make the novel worthwhile.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Deeply, and I mean DEEPLY, messed up. What Missouri Williams accomplishes with The Doloriad is pretty masterful, but this is a hard book to throw my weight behind recommending. If you have a high tolerance for depravity, then I can't recommend it enough, and Williams' prose is the cherry on top of a one-of-a-kind experience. It'll be a long time before I forget this one.

I fell in love with the premise and cover of the Doloriad, and it's been a highly anticipated book on my TBR since I first found it through NetGalley. I love cult stories, especially ones that follow the intricate disaster of a family post-apocalypse. While I can see the appeal in the horrific tension of this story and the twisted familial structure throughout it, the writing style is a little too dense and flat to pull me in, and I can only read so many descriptions of Dolores as "a fat pig" with "blubber" who is "rolling herself around" before it becomes too much. It's clear that this is one of those cases where disgusting descriptions are meant to make the reader uncomfortable, and I totally understand that. However, I also recognize that that's not something I'm interested in subjecting myself to, so personally, it's a DNF at 30%.

The Doloriad by Missouri Williams is a confounding, strange read. Equal parts dystopian fantasy and body horror, Williams is a talented writer and some of the prose is quite beautiful, albeit juxtaposed with some of the grossest things I've read in a novel. I can't offer the novel a high recommendation, but I am intrigued to see what Williams does next and applaud her for leaning into such a strange story.

The book's plot is a bit impenetrable and the narrative ultimately presents itself slowly over the course of its 200 or so pages. At it's core, the book follows an inbred family/cult in a not too distant future that has been ravaged by some kind of climate change related disaster. Some of the members of the family are horribly disfigured, either at birth or as part of some punishing ritual (it's somewhat unclear), and they all follow "the Matriarch," from whom they all share lineage. The title takes it's name from Dolores, one of the family members, who is mentally and physically handicapped but who represents a potential end to the Matriarch's hold of power.

The book wrestles with themes of power that are interesting, and as I shared earlier, has some really striking prose. However, I didn't find the book very pleasing to read and found it very difficult to finish. The most contemporary likeness would be a Jeff Vandermeer book since it focuses on climate change related issues and falls into a light sci-fi category. Readers who enjoy Vandermeer or similar books will probably find something to like here, although it may edge a little too close to horror/thriller for some.

No. Just no from me. I tried, I truly did, but I couldn't find any redeeming social value in this story of repulsive people. I'm all for the dark side and experimental fiction but not this time. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. Over to others who might appreciate it,

Beautifully writing in service to an underwhelming cast of too-similar, miserable characters and stagnant story of survival and violent incest. Despite the brutalities involved, the characters seemed caricatured and shallow in a way that kept me from engaging with their suffering. For all the quiescent never-ending abuse, I found myself bored. Still, Williams prose is lovely and I would be happy to try another of their books on that strength alone.

At a sentence-level, The Doloriad succeeds, and is often stunning; Williams' prose is really something. But on a narrative level, I am not certain the novel worked for me. It was a little tedious, difficult to get pulled into. The subject matter is dark, and reminded me of both Cormac Mccarthy but also Fernanda Melchor, both incredible writers who similarly create dense, grim works that are not be the easiest reads. Still, Williams has tremendous skill, and I don't doubt she'll continue making incredible projects.

Thank you for the e-galley!

I really struggled to get into this one. I think it was a bit too dark for my tastes, even though the writer is clearly very technically skilled with beautiful prose. Unfortunately, it's both too long and too bleak for me to completely finish.

So incredibly strange and harrowing! I wouldn't say I necessarily enjoyed the reading process of this because the subject matter is so off kilter and dark, but it has stuck with me. The tone and descriptions of all the characters are so hateful, it surprised me when I ended up developing empathy at the end of the book. Good! Weird, but fresh and good!

The only reason 'The Doloriad' doesn't get a 1-star rating is simply because Missouri Williams' writing was pretty strong for a debut. Without that, there really isn't much here to enjoy.

The synopsis gives you the entire story, minus the ending, and without having to read all 200+ pages of this drag of a book. It's more or less miserable and unlikeable without any redeeming qualities to it.

Not even kidding, the last 5 pages (going off of Kindle page count here) has a character summarize the whole story up until that part which makes everything before it useless. It's a baffling choice that doesn't do the book any favors.

The characters are practically all the same, besides Dolores since she's described by everyone as a slob and fat and made of blubber, Jan since he's practically a little psychopath except when he isn't and then is again, and The Matriarch since she's an adult and just kind of there until she isn't. Oh and I guess there's the schoolmaster but he's only there to internally monologue to himself about not liking the Matriarch and wanting to have Dolores as his own. It's genuinely hard to keep track of everyone and dare I say this story doesn't really have a main character? I mean, you could argue Dolores is but she has nothing to do and is mostly just written to be pathetic.

I'm all for shock value but when you're constantly beaten over the head with it, it takes a lot of oomph out of what you're trying to go for. And there is a lot here that's trying to offend your delicate sensibilities. Major content warnings of incest, rape and pregnancy from it, murder, abuse, bullying, the list goes on and on. But before you even reach the halfway point you come to expect it at every turn so there's nothing to be surprised or shocked about. It falls flat on its face and you just feel more awkward than anything.

If Missouri Williams went for a more engaging story and cast of characters, instead of trying to shock people while also wanting to be artsy, they would be a force of nature to be reckoned with. As it stands, The Doloriad thinks it's cool and interesting, but it's just not very good.

Thanks to Farrar, Straus, and Giroux for providing me with an advanced copy of this debut novel.

I can’t say that this book isn’t well-crafted but it wasn’t to my taste; it was just relentlessly grim, beat after beat of the most absurd and bizarre and sickening examples of interpersonal violence, rape, incest, murder, assault, over and over again, in a world slowly being drained of all life. It’s not at all badly written, and the weird imported pre-apocalyptic TV show is a nice touch (St. Thomas of Aquinas solves problems with a cartoon (?) sheep?) and is interesting for the way it presents pre-apocalyptic moments of interpersonal horror - even cheerleaders and Harvard students in the old world got raped and stalked! - but it never goes anywhere except to infect people’s dreams in a sort of gripping way. Some of the images of sheer unrelenting trauma and madness from this book will stick with me for a long time and if I were more of a body-horror fan or a more nihilistic person this might be a good thing. As it is I regret reading it and I hope it gets lots of awards and becomes a cult classic.

I’m actually glad to be the first person reviewing this on GR. And normally this would be because I’m excited to tell readers about an awesome new book I found, but this time it is to warn reader to stay far, far away from this flaming bag of…um…excrement.
The thing with being a completist…well, it’s kinda tedious, to be honest. It’s the sunken cost bias concept but in a book. Meaning you figure well, you already spent some time on the book, you might just finish it. And it’s almost never, ever worth it, either.
Take this waste of digital ink…I pretty much knew from the very first paragraph free image heavy overlong sentence prone first page this wasn’t going to be for me. But did I put it down? No. I persevered. Much to my shame and annoyance. And read the entire thing in one 230 minute or so bewildering sitting.
And bewildering it was…bewildering that a major publisher would produce this. That people will presumably read and enjoy this. That anyone would find it worthy of their time.
But those are all just vague opinions, what about specifics, you might ask? Well, specifically, this tediously dense dystopian nightmare is about an incestuous and partially deformed family of survivors who…well, just kind of exist. And this existence of there is so grotesque, so disgusting, so meaningless, that there’s no real reason form them to be alive and definitely no reason for them to have a book written about them.
And the frustrating thing here is that author actually has a nice way with words, but it’s overstylized into this mess, obviously deliberately. Definitely lamentably.
In a way it sort of reads like a kind of book that wins awards. One of those pretentiously unreadable tomes that critics tend to adore. Except that this one is especially vile, exceptionally viscerally vile. Not sure I ever used that word to describe a book, but reading this one, it was one of the first that came to mind.
And no, it isn't because I'm delicate or easy offended or dainty. I frequently read a variety of dark and scary things. It was just this terrible book.
This was a very sad waste of my time. And while there are some books you can not like but understand how someone might…with this one, I’m not sure how anyone can honestly enjoy it. Stay away, stay away. Thanks Netgalley.