A slow burn folklore horror that keeps its cards close to its chest.
It was definitely a bit hard to follow at times but I think that was the point. It had a slow build up that brought the suspense

There were so many aspects of this story that felt rooted in real life (in the most frightening way) and the oddities of the town would have easily fit into the confines of an X-Files episode!

The folklore embedded into the town was also incredibly intriguing, making the story all the more horrific for it.

A fantastic debut - I can’t wait to see what Leslie comes up with next!

Thank you to Leslie J. Anderson and Quirk Books via NetGalley for the eARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.

“The Unmothers” is a very strange book that took awhile for me to get through. It is told from multiple perspectives within a small town, with the main perspective being that of a visiting journalist. The premise of the book was so strange I immediately wanted to read the story. A human baby is born and supposedly the mother is a horse.

I found this story to be slow and intricate. It’s supposed to be a horror, but I never found myself immersed enough in the story to be horrified. I appreciate what the author was trying to do with this story that focused so heavily on horses, the realities of pregnancy, and the strength of women. I would recommend this book to readers who are looking for a story about grief, pain, mistakes, revenge, and horses.

After the tragic death of her husband, journalist Marshall is spiraling in her work and her personal life. Her boss sends her to a small town to investigate what she believes is a BS story…a horse giving birth to a human baby. The supposed father? A sixteen year-old boy. As Marshall begins to speak to the residents and learn more about the town and their superstitions, bodies, both human and horse, begin to show up dead, and Marshall quickly begins to realize there’s more to this town than it seems. Is there truth to the boy’s story about the baby? And why is everyone fearful of the woods and the fog that seeps out of it?

This was a fascinating folk horror story dealing with generational trauma, bodily autonomy, and feminine rage. I’ve always been a “horse girl,” so I enjoyed the important roles horses played in the novel and their relationship to the folk horror aspect. I also appreciated the feminist messaging in this novel, especially with regard to pregnancy and childbirth. Although I enjoyed this story and was satisfied by the novel’s ending, the many different POVs were hard to keep up with at times, especially since some characters’ names were similar. I also found myself a bit confused at what was happening in some parts. Overall, I’d recommend it though!

I’m sure there’s a philosophical Law about the following, but if there is, I don’t know its name: the moment you say “I think I’ve seen everything”, something will pop up which reminds you that, actually, you really haven’t. For anyone trying to work out how to write one hell of an advertising hook, look no further than THE UNMOTHERS.

After the death of her husband (and a bit of a breakdown), protagonist Marshall, a reporter for a city newspaper, is dispatched by her editor to the small town of Raeford to investigate what initially seems like a complete crank story: one of the horses of the town’s many horse farms has given birth - to a healthy, human baby boy. Raeford, however, might turn out to be a story itself - it’s a deprived country town full of underhanded cruelties, and when two brutalised bodies are found in a field, a generational secret held close to the hearts of Raeford’s women might just come crawling into the light…

If you know me well, you’ll know that my favourite horror film of all time is THE VVITCH (2015), so I’ve been really excited to see the steadily growing popularity of folk horror in the wider publishing market. However, while The Unmothers is very much advertised as a folk horror in this vein - you don’t need to look any further than the cover, which gets a 10/10 for iconography - in many ways, it’s a very different story altogether. My closest comp, which struck me immediately, is Gillian Flynn’s SHARP OBJECTS; a woman from the city, after a difficult past and a somewhat destructive comfort habit (in Marshall’s case, cigarettes), investigates the goings-on in an insular rural town and finds herself in over her head. See what I mean? However, this doesn’t work to it’s detriment, for the simple reason that Anderson writes rural America really well. Raeford is a particularly evocative setting from the moment Marshall crosses the threshold, and there’s such a vivid depiction of whitewashed, clapboard churches, trailer homes and bars, not to mention the often-tired stables which are viewed with no end of pride by the generations of equestrians. Even the ruined house which provides a backdrop to the generational trauma of the central family is a very literal skeleton from the time of the Civil War. The town also seethes with consistent issues caused by generational traumas and poverty, with resonate in a very real sense before we come close to encountering anything supernatural. The Unmothers is consistently occupied with pregnancy and reproductive rights, and so the town is full of pregnant teenagers and harangued women, immigrant workers are neglected by the community and the law in tandem, and an opioid crisis is raging in plain sight. The most unsettling thing about Raeford is not the fact that it is particularly unusual - in the case of many rural towns in neglected pockets of the US, it is exceedingly, painfully ordinary.

One of my favourite aspects of the narrative, however, is the consistent presence of the ‘horse girl’ figure. For the uninitiated, the term refers to a girl, often a teenager or preteen, whose passions revolve around riding, horses and their upkeep: you might recognise their presence in series’ of horse-themed children’s books, and will probably see them milling around the horses in any stable. In a novel about female rage and power, the horse girl - an often bullied figure (as we see in the case of passionate equestrian Brittany) - is a figure Anderson places in a position of knowledge and authority, whether of the secrets of Raeford, or the ability to control such a powerful and formidable creature as a horse. Though I’m often hesitant when it comes to discussions of ‘female knowledge’, specifically due to Ursula K. Le Guin’s brilliant writing on the subject (i.e. how female knowledge is forced to be arcane and relegated to darkness, while male knowledge is associated with science and widespread knowledge in the mainstream), this empowering of a female archetype which undergoes frequent maligning is something I really enjoy seeing in genre fiction, particularly horror, and so it hits a nice balance in the wider span of the narrative. There are also a couple of chapters written from the perspective of the hivemind of Raeford’s horses, and Anderson achieves a really eerily written effect through the register - in case you haven’t already noticed, this is a very horse-heavy novel.

Most of what follows is going to consist of my critique (not all of it, don’t run away yet!), but is also going to be the bit with all the spoilers, so fair warning.

I’ve already mentioned how much I love the hook in the blurb here, so I’m reluctant to express disappointment of any sort: however, while The Unmothers succeeds on a concept level, it doesn't quite live up to it in its execution. In spite of the hints from the blurb, this is a multi-POV novel - Marshall is just a single perspective among many - and this is a feature which clashes with the novel’s overall tone. As expected with a novel seeking to be unsettling, the novel moves along at a fairly meandering pace in order to build up tension, but since we switch perspective very quickly, and very often, this means that it’s very hard to get a grasp on most of the characters before we end up following someone else. This also drags the novel down, especially since many of these perspective characters exist to confirm what other perspectives have already informed us: for instance, while the priest character exists to add to the church aspect of the American Gothic theme, much of his interiority doesn’t add to the overarching narrative. In a similar vein, while there’s plenty of poetic prose to appeal to anyone who prefers their genre fiction a little literary, a consistent feature of the character work involves the narration talking directly about how characters are feeling, using a repeated use of “felt” which comes across as very passive in characterisation - by saying “[character] felt” instead of presenting a description of the feeling or how it manifests in a character’s behaviour, characters can come across as wooden or at a sense of remove from the action, which, in a genre such as horror, when you want to scare or discomfort your reader, creates a distance which defangs the narrative. In a similar vein, sometimes - aided by the quick flitting of the narrative - characters switch settings so fast that sometimes it’s difficult to keep up, and character development is mentioned to have happened, but without the breathing space for this development to feel natural. Has Marshall actually been changed by Raeford, or does the narrative just tell us that Marshall has been changed by Raeford?

In part, this might be due to Marshall’s characterisation, which doesn’t have as much to it as I would have liked. We get little snippets of her backstory which has led her to taking the Raeford job, but again, despite the compelling potential of a woman coming to terms with the death of her husband and a miscarriage, these only get the slightest mention (also, if I were Marshall’s editor, I personally wouldn't send her to pursue a story about cryptic pregnancies to help her recover from a miscarriage, but maybe that’s just me). We’re directly told she’s grieving and angry, but never quite breach into her feeling these things. Especially in the context of the theme of reproductive choice within the novel - as we later discover, the women of Raeford have passed down a secret ritual through which they can pass an unwanted pregnancy onto a horse, and when the horse gives birth to the baby, they can choose to keep it within a limited timespan before it turns into a foal - this feels like a missed opportunity. Our established villain is also dispatched far too quickly for the reputation established for him throughout the narrative, and when we discover a teenage boy previously coerced his girlfriend into sex, Marshall acknowledges this is rape openly on the page, but this is quickly overshadowed by every character in the novel - including his victim - referring to him as nothing but a “nice boy”. Of course, there is some nuance here - coercive control is very real, not everyone who has been sexually assaulted knows they have been from the moment it happens, and victims’ feelings for perpetrators are often incredibly complicated, so this is a realistic response - this felt very disappointing from a book which advertises itself as a novel about female rage and agency.

Overall, while The Unmothers is a vividly created American Gothic with some seriously unsettling things to say about rural communities and a beautifully realised depiction of equestrian life, its execution falls short of the folk horror story it’s advertised as. In reality, much of the narrative reads as a literary thriller with supernatural elements. Whether it’s eerie or outright scary, a good horror is always one with bite, but unfortunately despite its potential, The Unmothers falls just a little short of showing its teeth.

Thank you to Quirk Books and Netgalley for an eArc in exchange for an honest review.

Based on the cover and description, I really expected to love this book. Ultimately it ended up not being for me, unfortunately. It was entirely too slow and not much really happened. I know many people enjoy the atmospheric vibes of a creepy small town but it was just boring to me. I expected more horror but aside from the little bit towards the end it didn’t really deliver on that front either. The writing is good, it just didn’t feel like the plot was very well developed.

This horror book is a must read for Fall 2024!

Steeped in western Americana meets Appalachian horror mixed with horses and feminist folk horror, this absolutely piqued my interest as soon as I heard of it.

As an ex-"horse girl" turned gothic spooky person, this absolutely spoke to me on a spiritual level. Marshall and her grief was painted beautifully and as a fish out of water in a small town where everyone knows everyone, deeply relatable. The writing was captivating and beautiful and expertly wove this fascinating tale with exquisite detail without permeating purple prose.

I was excited about this one, but it wasn't as spooky as I was expecting. The characters were all pretty one-dimensional, and even though the book as a whole made some good points about unwanted pregnancies, it wasn't quite the horror novel I was looking for.

I want to begin by saying that the story was very good despite my three star rating. The idea and the creativity and the plot were all so good and exciting. The execution wasn’t the best, though. And I think that the medium of a novella would have suited this more.

A grieving journalist is sent to a small rural town to look into and write a piece about a horse that gave birth to a healthy baby boy. That’s really all you need to know to go into this one. The rest of the story will unfold from there. You’ll be introduced to a large (almost too large, in my opinion) cast of characters. You’ll glimpse into the culture and the folklore and the legend of the things that lurk in the shadows of the woods. You’ll meet the women and be taken into their secret lives in order to make sense of it all.

I wish this book was shorter. Really, the first third of this book was not necessary for the development of the plot, and it almost felt like work that was not needed. The constant switching between POV’s and the effort of trying to remember who everyone was made getting to the meat and potatoes of the story a slog. I loved the idea, and I loved some of the characters. It just didn’t work well for me. However, if you’re a person who these things do work for, then this will likely be a home run urban legend novel for you.

3.5 rounded up to 4.

This is my second horror novel and I must say, they may not be for me! Both of them, including the Unmothers, I really just don’t quite understand. I get the general principles but I still feel like I’m scratching my head. I’m pretty sure it is just me?

The book begins and we meet Marshall (a journalist) and an outrageous rumor. She goes to investigate this unbelievable story and finds not so nice folks, horses and a crime. She decides to investigate further as this may be a real story. And that’s about where it all gets a bit confusing. What unfolds is tense, secretive and traumatic and Marshall is really unsure. (As was I!)

Advance reader copy provided by Quirk Books and NetGalley but all opinions are my own.

A journalist is investigating a very odd rumor; a horse has given birth to a human baby.

This was a slower paced read but very well written. It’s hard to believe it’s the author’s debut. It took me a while to get into because of the many perspectives. It got pretty darn creepy and a lot to do with horses. Big bonus if you’re a horse fan. If you enjoy slow, atmospheric reads, give this one a try.

“There were things that were required. There were things that were required of him. He hated them down to the cracks and crevices of his soul and raged against them even as he did them loyally, meekly, obediently. The ritual was important.”

The Unmothers comes out 8/6.

When Marshall, our protagonist, arrives in Raeford, it has all the markings of a classic gothic horror, with unfriendly townsfolk guarding dark secrets. The fact that Marshall is there to investigate a tabloid headline of a story about a horse giving birth to a human child kind of undercuts the vibe a bit, but not much. We know what we’re in for. A slow uncovering of a mystery, as we dig into the folk horror that lives at the heart of this rural community.

I’m happy to say, that The Unmothers doesn’t really work that way at all. Instead, after getting the runaround from a few townspeople, Marshall talks to a couple of teenagers, and she gets the whole story, or legend, or whatever it is. This kind of fakeout, this holding up of the mystery structure only to yank it away again, is part and parcel of the way the novel works, sometimes to its benefit, sometimes not. It is, at its heart, a book that plays with your expectations in clever ways.

What we really get is a portrait of small town America in all its gritty reality: small time gangsters, teen pregnancy, and the omnipresent reality of drug addiction. In this way, Marshall is a perfect lens through which to view the story. She brings the journalistic eye to this unique (but also stereotypical) little town.

Unfortunately, this method is hampered by ever revolving POVs and Marshall’s own backstory, which seems a little too pat, a little too made to order. The idea that a protagonist requires some “Big Trauma” that informs the way they experience the story seems to me not only overused but unnecessary. Marshall would have been a perfect proxy for the reader due to her cynical outsider status and her journalistic curiosity, and that would have been enough.

Without giving anything away, the folk horror aspect of The Unmothers is creepy and effective, and also provides some of the most lyrically beautiful passages in a book of solid prose.

But in the end, I was left wondering what it all added up to.

There’s an insistence throughout that the force in the woods (or perhaps one man’s attempt to take control of that force) has something to do with reproductive rights and bodily autonomy, but there’s no reasonable way to make any such a connection in any logical way. There is simply no one-to-one connection to be made here based on the ideas laid out within the novel. And I’m perfectly happy with that lack of connection. I don’t need reason and logic in my folk horror story thank you very much. But there seems to be an insistence from outside the world of the novel that there is a deeper meaning, that this narrative conflict has greater political ramifications, and I just wasn’t buying it.

In the end, I found The Unmothers to be incredibly enjoyable, remarkably well-written at the level of its prose, and jam packed with brilliant moments. Anderson knows how to do a wide cast of characters, and that serves the story well, and her undeniable knowledge of all things horse-related is delivered in a way that is fascinating and never overwhelming.

But it might be attempting to do too much with an already full plate. By trying to make Marshall’s story match up so neatly with whatever is happening in Raeford, and by trying to make what’s happening mean more than it does, the novel loses some of its undeniable power.

Thank you NetGalley and Quirk Books for this ARC in exchange for my honest review!

After reading reviews, I feel like I'm an outlier for this book. I found this book somewhat underwhelming despite its beautiful folklore plot, and well-captured small-town atmosphere - which was very well done and why I stuck it out reading.

The slow pacing and slow-burn reveals made it difficult to connect to the characters and the story. The Unmothers is marketed as horror, it felt more like mystery/literary fiction, with folk horror elements sprinkled in. The themes of grief, generational trauma, and feminine rage were very well done, but the horror aspects could have been more intense. Despite these issues, Anderson has unique and interesting ideas that she established in the second half of the novel, but don't go in expecting folk horror like The Witch or Midsommar.

If you like folk horror, a little bit of mystery, and horses this is a story for you.

Marshall, our reporter, is headed to small town Raeford to cover the story of a horse that gave birth to a human child.

Things are not all that they seem here.

There’s a lot in here that delves into grief and the way it’s handled, but also some really great folklore that draws you deep into the heart of this story.

Absolute banger of an ending. The last quarter of this book made up for me being bored during the first half. Very thankful to quirk books for the arc, this will be my food for thought for a while.
I’d say go into this expecting more literary fiction/thriller than horror, and certainly more of a slow burn, but I do recommend it!

While I loved the premise, I had a hard time accepting the cold, distant tone (even though it makes sense given the rural isolation of the setting) yet something didn't quite click with me, despite the solid writing.

The Unmothers by Leslie J. Anderson ostensibly follows a reporter through a small town. This reporter, Marshall, and this town, Raeford, both have parts of their past they’d rather not share. Not kept secret is why Marshall is in town: a horse gave birth to a human baby. If that sounds unbelievable, don’t worry; Marshall and her boss think so too. This folk horror novel is also a detective story—one where the stakes keep rising. You can follow the case when this debut novel arrives from Quirk Books on August 6th, 2024.

Before I can dig into this story, I have to address the point of view. This book does not entirely follow Marshall. I understand from a summary standpoint how it makes sense to frame the story in this way, but it did color my reading expectations. I wasn’t a fan of Marshall at the start, and wasn’t looking forward to spending so many pages with her. But when the viewpoint kept changing, I struggled to adjust to the new shape of the story. I think I counted around twelve distinct perspectives, when I originally thought it was sticking with two. About halfway through my reading, I realized the main character isn’t Marshall: it’s Raeford.

Once I made that connection, I really started to enjoy this book. I distinctly remember something happening—something delightfully leaning into folk horror—where I said, “Okay, this is what I came here for.” That scene, and many following, were awesome. The atmosphere of Raeford clings to you. It’s sticky, like blood. And the cast of characters that populate it? That’s one benefit of Marshall as a character: you get to meet them as an outsider and as an insider. Dualities like this, how and why people relate to each other, is a crucial scaffold to this novel. With Marshall, we are able to learn about the town and truly see how insular and untrusting they are. With the perspectives of those who grew up in town, we get to see how that trust gets further divided and what lines they have drawn for themselves.

Also of note–Raeford is a horse town. The politics of the industry create some of these lines, as does simple experience. Just because you see your neighbor’s horse walking down the road doesn’t mean you know how to ride, or more importantly, train. There’s a level of pride and superiority that those at the top of their field inhabit. A squabble between two men over a stud is made abundantly clear from the start. That’s a pretty testosterone filled conversation for a book like The Unmothers. It’s a book steeped in motherhood, birth, and the community found amongst women. The men are left almost entirely on the outside of these conversations and rituals. Or at least, they’re supposed to be.

The main conflict in this story, in this town, arises from that gender line being crossed. On one hand, there is a man who is willingly exposed to some of the mystery surrounding the bloody history of this town. On the other, there is a man who is violently seeking those secrets for his own use. Even deeper into the fabric of this town, there is a break within the circle of women as well. There is no clear path of initiation into these customs, or the rules. And when rules like this are broken, the price is high. Some of these breaks come from outside the community, like poverty or substance abuse. The town makes it a point to highlight those prices that are being publicly paid.

These heavy concepts and sweeping social commentary almost hurts this novel. Talking with a friend, we each got half of the story we expected, the story we wanted. This novel really did do a lot, which is a huge undertaking for a debut. I can see where things were going, and how much heart went into this vision, but for me that did distract from the book I thought I was reading. Really, I commend Anderson for tackling something so vast on a first go. It may not have been a perfect read for me, but I see a lot of talent here. Especially when it came to the almost cosmic horror elements peeking through. I cannot stress enough how much I loved those aspects of this book. It makes me really hope we see more from this author. And if you’re on the fence, aren’t you at least a little curious enough to pick this up? I think it’s worth it.

3.5/5

*Slight spoilers*

Really good atmosphere, and a mystery / monster that I liked because it was presented as somewhat morally grey. The author also really captures some of the feeling of being around "horse people," and presents a low-key but deep knowledge about working with horses. The prose was competent but I didn't feel like there was much of a distinctive voice, and the different characters didn't distinguish themselves from each other very much. I actually didn't mind the plethora of POV chapters but I do think that some of them were probably unnecessary because they did not add to the texture of the story. For example, Emma's chapters were conceptually a good inclusion because they could show her escape to the city but the ties the town still holds on her by way of Daily. But I don't think these chapters quite stuck the landing so they felt extraneous. I'm also not sure I understood Daily's interest in Emma, or why the monster was after him--there may have been an explanation or intimation but if there was, I didn't catch it. Anyway, I think this is a really strong debut from Anderson, and a decent entry in the folk horror genre, which is why I rounded up.

The good news: The Unmothers is my first ever ARC (advanced reader copy)!! YIPEE. And the bad: I hear “folk horror mystery” and I’m all in, but The Unmothers kinda kept me wanting.

The wild and kinda spooky horse imagery: perfection. The foggy, dark country forest setting with mysteries within: 100% yes. The feminist, ancient female power themes: gimme, all day. But listen! I wanted this to go way deeper! I wanted things to get WEIRD! I wanted the vibes to be so spooky and animalistic and slightly off-putting! My fault for expecting an A24 type storyline. But you read the synopsis and tell me it doesn’t sound like it was going in that direction?

It came off rather bland, the ending could have done big things but it kind of fizzled, and I didn’t care about any of the characters. Some of them made rather questionable decisions but then the author was giving strong backpedal vibes like we were expected to like them, which ~gave me pause~.

I have a feeling this one will be rather divisive in its reception. Do pick it up and tell me what you think?

Looking for some feminist folk horror? The Unmothers is your book. Set in a small, rural town, this was so atmospheric and creepy, far exceeding what I hoped. There are quite a few things going on, we have grief and folk horror, female rage, a bit of gore, I couldn't put it down. There were a lot of POVs in this one, but I never found it to be overwhelming or confusing and the character development was great without being too much. It's the perfect read on an early fall night, when the sun starts to set earlier and the nights begin to be chilly. I can't wait to read whatever Leslie J. Anderson writes next. Thanks so much to Quirk Books for sending me a copy of this one! The Unmothers will be published 8/6 and needs to be on your TBR!