Feito’s Victorian Psycho follows Winnifred Notty, a governess that isn’t quite like everyone else. When we meet Winnifred, we can tell right away that she isn’t quite right - a feeling reinforced by her unsettling first person narration. I liked being inside Winnifred’s mind throughout this book and seeing the world through her twisted perspective. However, moments of the book felt disjointed in ways that didn’t seem like an intentional show of Winnifred’s mental state. I would’ve preferred to get more of Winnifred, but I loved what we got in this short novel.

This is deliciously wicked, enjoyably depraved. Virginia Feito’s writing is so perfect for this story she’s created. I love the evocative way she describes not only the setting, but our main character and all of the side characters who cross her path. Everyone is a kind of villain in this, and this is the kind of unlikeable narrator I could read over and over. I loved Virginia’s use of the victorian time period to make everything feel dirtier, grittier, grosser. I loved being in the head of Winifred, our heroine who is also definitely a psycho and so much fun to read about. I was a huge fan of Mrs. March and Feito’s arsenic-laced prose, so I am not surprised at all that I loved this novel.

Unfortunately, I DNF'ed this book about 40% of the way through.

Victorian Psycho is a book about a governess who gleefully commits acts of violence. The title immediately makes me think of American Psycho. I was excited to read this, because I really enjoyed American Psycho.

Unfortunately, Victorian Psycho really didn't do it for me. To start, the main character Winifred seems to have no defining personality traits besides being violent and mean. She talks about how she's always been like this, even from when she was a young child. Aside from this, there is very little dimension to Winifred. She's flat and boring. For a book like this, it is not enough to have the main character be a murderer; they need to have a personality beyond that.

Let's return to the American Psycho comparison. Patrick Bateman is also a brutal murderer. However, from the first moment we are impressed with his obsession with appearances. He spends a whole chapter listing his intense skincare routine, and describes every single thing every other person is wearing, down to the specific brand. We get a sense of the rage, bigotry, and jealousy that motivate him to commit atrocities. I did not get even an inkling of any of this from Winifred. Her mother hates her and believes she's the product of the Devil; why? This isn't getting into the side characters, who all felt so underdeveloped that they were more caricature than character.

Then, there was the fact that this book was incredibly heavy-handed with the satirical tone and references to touchstones Victorian times. The references I spotted to Dickens and Brontë felt less like something Winifred would naturally be referencing as part of her contemporary culture and more of a wink from the author to say, "Look how clever I am to be making this reference." The description of the setting was also lacking in my opinion. I was relying more on sets I'd seen from Jane Eyre than anything the book was saying when it came to imagining the setting.

Ultimately, I gave up on this book because by the time I'd reached the 40% mark, I had no decent feeling for any of the characters or the setting. I got the feeling this was meant to be a fun, bloody romp through Victorian times, but the execution fell incredibly flat for me.

This was unsettling, upsetting, and undeniably fun. From the outset, I was fascinated by Winifred Notty, in the way one is fascinated by a car crash, or perhaps a dead animal on the side of the road. I couldn't look away, but I was a little disgusted by myself for it. I enjoyed the experience immensely.

It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the book's subject matters & those detailed in my review overwhelming. I suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters that contain reflections on the sexual abuse of children, the extreme physical abuse of children, promiscuity, graphic physical violence, violent crime, & others.

Mangled in the Reeds is a whimsical mystery, one that reels the reader through tepid water & oozing sands; Horror must be crafted with care. I have written ad nauseam about the intention that is required of authors when setting out to write a Horror story. Every genre requires a particular set of skills; a good story, remains a good story, no matter who it is for, or under which umbrella of literature it is written.

Yet repeatedly—exhaustively—I find myself met with stories that boast of terror & gruesome horror but deliver none of what was promised. I am left wondering why that is & which reader is lying to the author who pens slop for swine.

In essence, this is a book about a governess who arrives at a wonderful English estate & mass murders all the residents & their guests over the twelve days of Christmas. The plot revolves around Winifred, who goes by Fred, claiming it is the name her inner demon prefers. The main character is a possible Psychopath who might also have Congenital Insensitivity to Pain and Anhidrosis (CIPA). The plot follows her as she arrives at the house, blabbing needlessly to the reader about her need to sexually harass (abuse) others; her intention to violently murder; & finally her silly goose dreams of being hanged.

At first glance, as you read this review you may note that the subject matter is rampant with the need for sensitivity—you would be correct. Indeed, what makes these subject matters so intensive is their cruel participation in the real, non-fictional world. Yet, the simple truth of their existence in the reader’s world does not render any book in which they are included one worthy of reading, or writing.

My main qualm with the Horror genre is that people forget the art of storytelling. This is certainly not specific to the genre, but I find myself curiously disappointed that I am faced with the redundant need to reiterate the obvious when paired with books in a genre I deeply adore. Good writing, good plot-pacing & crafting, good character development, & good structure make for a good story, objectively.

Listing horrible things does not a story make. One need only watch the news to see the horrible things in their interwoven natural states. Though every reader will find different subjects & possibilities frightening & though their tolerance for the cruel, violent, truths may vary, a story is not a list of things; a story is a tapestry.

There is no such tapestry in this book in fact, there is no story here at all. The main character is a person who lived during the late nineteenth century, as per the mention of Queen Victoria & the common use of the bell system in graves—which was designed in 1829.

The timeline is very important, yet it is essentially disregarded by the author. Winifred speaks like a modern American woman & her inner monologue mirrors this. The vernacular that Feito uses in this book does not reflect the time during which the story is meant to take place, nor does it nestle itself in the geographic area where the characters live.

The English high society seldom changed in behaviour & values throughout the centuries leading up to the First World War when the economic standing of the entire United Kingdom suffered enormous loss inducing society to transform into something different & new. However, throughout this entire book, characters who were meant to be of aristocratic stature behaved like grocery store clerks in Appalachia; they didn’t care about dress, behaviour, hierarchy, or stature, they showed up, said some lines & went about their business of reading pornographic books & getting drunk on local liquor. No offence meant towards the Appalachians.

It is strange to have to pinpoint a canvas that lacks direction & flow, in its entirety. Whereas the story could have been saved had the author included characters with gumption, diversity, authenticity, intelligence, & personality, she chose instead to create a mass of hysterical individuals who read like a single glob of flesh fighting against the ostentatious scientist himself.

The over-sexualization of every aspect of the story did not help either. Truly, if one is in the market for a book that simply highlights redundant childhood sexual abuse, one has found the blood-red apple with this book.

Again, I highlight that the reality of these experiences is horrible, but it is not enough to simply name the villain. Humanity knows this reality exists & in some cases, has experienced the venom of vile firsthand. The story needs to introduce these aspects in a format that allows the reader to forget themselves, their comfort, & their safety; making the binds of the book invisible to the touch so that the reader suffocates alongside the characters until the final page turn of reprieve that draws them back to themselves. This is not too much to ask.

Over a few days, perhaps weeks, Fred reminisces about her childhood experiences & attempts to fondle the malleable mind of the reader that her author has declared brain dead. It is interesting for the reader to peer into the truths that the unreliable narrator holds close to their heart like a trump card waiting to be played. Fred is too dull for this to work.

We return to my main point & one which you will see written bulbously & repeatedly throughout this review. It is not enough for Fred to have had a difficult childhood. In fact, it makes no sense that her mother tried to kill her because the alleged Devil lived inside of her. Why did her mother believe this? Is the reader meant to assume that because Fred is a product of an illicit affair her mother developed a psychosis, believing her bastard child the product of the Devil & not, the horny longings of two sexually consenting adults?

Rather than highlight facts in the fiction, Fred narrates her early days as bizarrely silly movements, leaving the reader in the dark, where they remain throughout the entire story. What is the purpose of doing this when the reader is meant to feel disgusted that Fred has an insatiable & somewhat unfounded need to murder at random?

It would have been to the benefit of the plot as a whole to have Fred act somewhat reliably as a narrator. Her recollections of childhood & of a mother who was mentally tormented by the social requirements of her time & class, allow for very intriguing reflections on psychosis, violence, sexual proclivities, & the nature of English society that kept everything, allegedly, in check.

As the times rolled onward, the learned mind explored the negative effects of an overly strict upbringing. Individuals often rebel or reject their experiences entirely, opting to be the polar opposite of what was familiar to them. This is not the case with Fred therefore, what is the situation at hand & what is the reader meant to deduce from this narrator?

What I found most foul in this entire experience is that there appears to have been no effort to write a good story. There are certainly readers who will appreciate the slicing of throats, the murder of babies, the physical despair of children, & the pornographically spiteful behaviours of the characters yet, the author does not attempt to give them any space at the table.

Rather than keep a reader in mind, the author appears to have wanted to write about the floundering extremism that existed in Victorian society without taking the time to research what this meant, in actuality.

Fred is not an anomaly. Indeed, her testimony of sexual encounters, the banal realization that her grandfather was a Pedophile; the morose meandering of her intention to stick her tongue into other people’s orifices, all read as abysmally boring—a word I am loathe to use yet, I find it perfectly reflects the entirety of this book.

This book was boring. Particularly as the author wished to regale the reader with the horrible haunts of humankind, one would have desired a glimmer of perspective regarding the delightful effort that should—& could—have been put forth in the early stages.

Why was Fred speaking in an American dialect? Why was the family so casual concerning her obvious disregard for their children? How was Fred able to murder every single able-bodied adult in the house? Why did Fred spare Drusilla? Why was Fred allowed to stay for Christmas when no one wanted her around—save the patriarch who was interested in engaging in sexual exchanges but, I digress. There are so many questions that can be asked about the events that took place within this book & yet none of them are addressed. Why is that?

A reader might forgive a story that leaves them reeling when they have been taken on a ride. Alternatively, I am left feeling as though my time has been devastatingly wasted by someone whose box of chocolates presented me with sewing needles when what I hoped to find was milky sweets.

There is no excuse for this & you may feel that my review has taken an extreme position of anger over such a small tale of intellectually stunted, wishfully adventurous, & catatonically dreadful characters; I would not contradict you.

I find myself infused with a need to make clear that subject matter of this calibre deserves to be well-written. Each of the characters in this book experienced abuse & although the time in which they lived & breathed was not one of overt kindness or empathy for their experiences, or for anything outside of the status quo; readers will recognize the lessons they have learned in their century & feel flummoxed, too.

When all is said & done I am disappointed that this book turned out to be a Wikipedia article-style wet dream with barbarically derogatory writing, scrapping the barrel of a baboon-brained bot without the heart to write claustrophobia into tenors. There is no reason to invest time in a story that goes nowhere, one that would do well at the bottom of the gutter where Fred’s body will tumble. I would like to be more forgiving; everyone starts somewhere.

Yet, the author & I have a search tool in common & the casual sense to use it. Aspects of this story that did not make sense left me fact-checking a rather obscene number of occurrences in this book such as the: invention of Safety Coffins by German, Dr. Johann Gottfried Taberger—which lent credence to the time when the story occurs & the nature of the fear of physical proximity; the familiarity of the word “Bitch” as a derogatory term for women—which was used by Fred’s father but did not come into common use, in the way it is known now & in the way it was used in the book, until the late twentieth Century; & the wax moulding of Winifred’s head after her hanging—which was a more common practice in France with Marie Tussaud & would not have been legal in England due to the Obscene Publications Act of 1857 which dictates the illegal display of human bodies, according to the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, to mean, “the display of anatomical specimens as potentially obscene.” (Bates AW. Dr. Kahn's Museum: obscene anatomy in Victorian London. J R Soc Med. 2006 Dec;99(12):618-24. doi: 10.1177/014107680609901209. PMID: 17139064; PMCID: PMC1676337)

Ultimately, with patience, effort, & talent, a worthy story can come from the moulding pile of rotten Long Pig that undulates the ravenous blunt teeth of the mouth that feeds on fireside stories & sultry serpent tongues.

I would encourage the author to spend time with their local librarians, peer-reviewed research papers, worthy editors, & collections of macabre marvels; a story worthy of writing & reading is perhaps yet to come to from their pen, even though the bodice’s ink currently runs dry.

Thank you to NetGalley, W. W. Norton & Company, & Virginia Feito for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!

Horrific yet wildly entertaining, Victorian Psycho is a novel that held me in thrall from the moment I sat down with it. It is grim, bleak, gruesome, surprisingly funny, and propelled by the beating of the blackest of hearts (but heart nonetheless!). The prose is gorgeous, the characters riveting, and the story one I’ll likely never forget. All the stars, all the recommendations, all the love.

Well, the best way to describe this book is to just throw out some adjectives: creepy, morbid, atmospheric, gothic, and a bit unhinged. As you can see this was a fun one to read! Winnifred was so well written I was rooting for her even though she was unhinged!

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!!!

This is for those of us who love stories about unhinged women snapping as violently as possible!! With a Victoriana setting, we follow a governess who doesn't particularly like the family she works for... or children in general. To be fair though, Winifred Notty finds most things unsatisfactory, as evident from her first appearance on the page. She's intentionally misanthropic and odd, intended to be so unlikable that she's almost endearing.

This story has no issue poking fun at the grotesque and paradoxical facets of high society life and the depravities of the wealthy. Easily bored and with a mind prone to fits of violent fancy, Winifred finds her own ways to occupy herself. Madness is less a crux or fear than an old friend, biding it's time waiting for a moment to encourage embracing her inner darkness.

Tonally this story fits somewhere between <i>American Psycho</i> and an adult version of <i>A Series of Unfortunate Events</i>. I had a positively delightful time develing into the marrow of Winifred Notty's psyche. Wry and matter-of-fact, Winifred has no issue detailing the specifics of her eccentricities and distaste for others. The occassional breaking of the fourth wall didn't feel disjointed, but rather like a friend winking and offering a humorous aside.

This is a grisly tale full of violence, bloodshed, inequality and cruelty. A wild ride from start to end!!

Winnifred is a Victorian era governess about to take on two young charges. She bears no resemblance to Jane Eyre, our narrator is a deeply disturbed individual whose love of terrifying the children in her charge is seriously creepy. With peaks into her own childhood, Winnifred slowly reveals why she’s so intent on destroying the mental wellbeing of her charges

This is a creepy and darkly humorous novella set in the Victorian age and it's a fun, morbid, and fascinating read.

Our narrator is a governess who accepts a job to take care of two children of a wealthy family. But almost right away we can tell that this woman is different. Yes, she is a psychopath and little flashbacks about her past are crawling with dread and blood.

She has a secret and that will be revealed later in the book but the humor mixed with the terrifying thoughts swarming her mind makes for one hell of a great read.

You'll definitely want to pre-order this one. It's bloody, quirky, and will give you the creeps. I highly recommend it.

This book provides a variety of adjectives such as gothic, eerie, blunt, bleak, dark comedy, and grotesque! The antiheroine of the book, Winifred Notty, is a time-travelled, gender-reversed version of American Psycho's Patrick Bateman, with one big difference: she's made a monster instead of being born a villainess. The situations she's gone through since childhood, her psychologically damaged mother's attempts to take her life, and the way she's leaving the world may affect her deteriorated perspective.

She finally gets acceptance for her new governess job, teaching the Pounds family's two children: eight-year-old Andrew and his elder sister Drusilla. She's planned to instruct them in English, French, writing, music, dancing, drawing, and arithmetic, which will help Andrew prepare for his boarding school next year and Drusilla (who will focus on ornamental needlework) find a better suitor for herself instead of filling her head with extra knowledge.

Winifred gets introduced to the Pounds family: Mr. Pounds seems more excited about her arrival, taking her on long walks and requesting her attendance at the dinner table each night, while his wife reluctantly accepts her existence, more suspicious about her motives and acting hostile around her.

Winifred is not like a regular, obedient Victorian governess they hired, telling the worst kind of nightmarish dark stories (more brutal than the Grimm Brothers) at nighttime to the children, telling the people she's coming from a place where they eat children - and she's probably not joking. As we learn more about her past and her previous jobs at other houses that she took a little too far, we realize she's a really dangerous woman with a distorted and uniquely vicious mind. But interestingly, none of the people, including the servants of Ensor house, are like angels; they're even worse than her. When Winifred starts conducting her jaw-droppingly shocking destruction plan that leads her to give an unforgettable show at Christmas as a big gift to this family, the only thing you can do is stop reading this book when things get extremely gory or wear your big girl pants and read it until reaching the climax that will probably make you gasp or scream a little louder.

Overall: The unique, bold, extremely dark but sarcastic tone of the author makes your reading experience so special. The drawings inside the book, the heart-throbbing conclusion, unexpected twist, the vicious-sociopathic but interestingly engaging antiheroine, and eerie cover of the book made me clap harder for the entire execution! If you're open to reading something original, unexpected, gripping, and if historical gothic themes are your genre, this book will suit all your needs.

Many thanks to NetGalley and W.W. Norton & Company / Liveright for sharing this unique historical book's digital reviewer copy with me in exchange for my honest thoughts.