Sour Cherry is a mesmerizing retelling of the Bluebeard folktale (but don’t let the label “folktale” dissuade you). This novel is not a simple, whimsical tale but rather a visceral exploration of loss, love, and power. With effervescent, haunting prose, Sour Cherry felt like an unstoppable force, urging me to keep turning the pages.

In Sour Cherry, we meet Agnes, a woman who is called to a manor as a wet nurse after her own baby has died. She nurses then essentially raises the boy. Over the years, he’s followed by death and decay: who’s to say if it’s all happening by his hands. The boy turns into a man, and we see his many wives, many homes, and the trails of destruction left in his wake.

Theodoridou presents us with an absolutely gutting tale that attempts to articulate the violence of toxic masculinity and abuse … a dark tale that women have always known. This is one of my top reads, ever.

I think this was a me problem as I’ve just been in a reading slump. This definitely didn’t pull me out of it though. Just found it slow and dragging. But I will say it was very original and had lots of amazing writing. Not my favorite book but it will be for some people. Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC!

Thank you to Netgalley for this arc of Sour Cherry. This book was very interesting, but in a good way. I was hooked from the first page in. This follows Agnes who loses her baby and is called to take care of a local lord's baby. While taking care of him she notices something is off with him. He's not a normal baby. HIs nails start growing fast and his skin smells like dirt. As he grows into a man, strange things start happening within the community and the people don't like him. This book was dark and gothic like, it was very well written. I would definitely read more from this author.

Bluebeard retellings are bliss, are they not? The vibe is sticky with something gross and compelling, the perfect Gothic mood. Natalia Theodoridou’s Sour Cherry really pulls the melancholy out of the tale and brings it through some sort of campfire haunting story on a fall night. It’s so atmospheric. The world-building is less about what’s what and more about the lushness of the mood and the environment. I loved that about this book.
The characters are complex and are well-written. Some you can know well, some not so much. The coldness of the MMC was done so well.
Theodoridou simultaneously hits his mark and gets his point across about patriarchy, marriage and its effect on each gender, gender and sexuality in relation to expected expression within culture, so much. It’s subtlety done in a masterful way.
This is a book for folklore lovers overall I think, but I think
people who are interested in gender roles, misogyny, or who are survivors might especially enjoy this.
My only beef is the play-like interjections such as, “footlights”. They took me out of the mood, but I may have also been missing the point because I do feel the author’s voice is meant to be storyteller.
Tin House always offers such intentional selections, I very much appreciate that.

I don’t know what this is a retelling of as I’ve never heard of the original story but I enjoyed it nonetheless. My only qualm with it is how slow it got in some parts and how it sounded as if there were portions that could have been entirely left out that would have not changed a thing about the plot.
Good story that focuses on toxic masculinity and how women are viewed

what an excellent book!! this book makes me want to sit down with the author and discuss why certain plot points happened, compliment the phrasing and metaphors, and sing its praises. it did take me a little bit to get into the book, it seemed like the first quarter didn't quite sink its teeth and claws into me like the rest of the book did. however, once i liked it, i LOVED it.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞, 𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩.

Bluebeard is one of those tales that stuck to me like glue as a kid, so did Rumpelstiltskin, it has something to do those who have total control over you through trickery. You know, first they charm you then you’re trapped. But that’s just how I saw it, frightening tales but ones that fill you with curiosity. You must look behind the curtain, at your own peril. This Bluebeard retelling hits hard, an interesting word, hits. I love what Natalia Theodoridou has written, a fairy tale? No- it is ‘a protest’ from the ghost of women suffering or buried somewhere- everywhere. How does a man become a monster that rides the waves of folklore? Maybe because others ignored the signs, overwhelmed by affection, blinded by their kindness, needs. It’s also a curse of only seeing the good, of exonerating even the devil. The abuse has to stop with someone.

When Agnes suffers the tragic loss of her own baby, she becomes a wet nurse to the local lord’s infant son. The mistress of the manor, the lonely baby’s mother, is unwell (physically or mentally) but it doesn’t matter, she will abandon him, refuse to care for him. What else does Agnes have to do with her milk, other than let it bear down upon her already heavy heart, chest? Better to fill a hungry child’s belly, his heart, even if he is to the dark manor born. Despite warnings from the villagers, she makes her choice, forever tying her fate with the odd child.

Together they become one, she doesn’t even need to have a name for him. But there are strange signs that give weight to the villager’s rumors. His nails grow too fast, his hunger knows no end, but there is no wound he can inflict, not even from biting her while nursing that can alter her love and adoration for him. He grows into a boy who is lovely in looks but has darkness, a hard shadow in his eyes. He plays with the village children, crowing at how much he loves them all, but the boy’s love can be a sour thing and a source of misery for others. Is he truly a curse, as his father and mother were foretold? Is he misunderstood? As she notices more horrors, things that unsettle her, she prefers to remain loyal, to be his protection. When his own mother tells her to leave, Agnes’s faith doesn’t waver. If he cannot control his rage, can anyone blame him? Is it his fault, if his nature at times turns cruel? Life hasn’t been kind to him, has it? Poor little mite.

As blight arrives, villagers blame him, but he finds a woman to love, deciding to leave, but this time Agnes stays behind. Now he has a faithful lady, someone who promises never to abandon him, but there is no sunset to ride off in. It is darkness, despair, death, even when he has a child of his own named Tristan. His inheritance is one of violence, of wives for who it all ends badly, a frightful number of them. Must the child carry the beast inside of him, will he be like his monstrously cold father when he grows up? There are seasons even in brutal love, tender, kind, marvelous, until the storm arrives. His father is rotten inside… but does Tristan have to be a mirror to ugliness, simply by sharing the same blood? Can he turn away from his future, his doom? Will his father allow him to be free of their curse, if that’s what this darkness is?

Why don’t the women escape, why do ghosts hover in rage? These lost, once loyal women, regretful when the life drained from them, when it’s far too late. Why do women give up their voice? Their sight? Their truth? Why do they become numb in the face of their own ruin? Will anyone have the courage to leave, to change the story? Why do the return again and again, knowing that all the sweet promises are lies? Maybe someone will finally choose freedom?

Fascinating take on an old tale. Yes, read it!

Publication Date: April 1, 2025

Tin House Books

While I thoroughly enjoyed the overall premise of this story, it definitely lost me at times. It felt overly repetitive without much payoff in the end. The narration was tricky to keep up with. It always took me a bit to decipher who was narrating. The atmosphere was funky in a good way, I definitely enjoyed that. I will say I was much more hooked in the beginning when the wet nurse was the narrator. Once he became an adult, that’s when the repetition started to kick in. I definitely don’t think it’s a bad book, it just wasn’t quite for me.

*Sour Cherry* by Natalia Theodoridou is a beautifully written, thought-provoking story that blends reality with a touch of magic. The characters feel so real, with their flaws and dreams, making it easy to connect with them on an emotional level. The plot has a unique mix of heartache and hope, and Theodoridou’s writing style is both poetic and immersive. While some parts of the book were a bit slow for me, the emotional payoff at the end was totally worth it. If you’re looking for a novel that’s deep, introspective, and a little bit whimsical, *Sour Cherry* is definitely worth a read!

Whimsical and flowing prose. Superb tale with a grotesque feeling that is present throughout the story.

Wow. Just wow. This book is insane, in the best possible way. It is so misty and fable like, using the fairy tale of Bluebeard in order to tell the story of abuse and its affects on those involved. The rot and fog just creeps into your throat and sits there, letting you become enveloped in this nightmare. After finishing this, my mind is stuck in the same loop the wives are. Never leaving the cycle of Bluebeard. The mentions of modern trappings contributed to the dizzying world. Not knowing where we are or WHEN we are.
I really recommend this to fans of A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson.


Thank you so much to Tin Can and NetGalley for providing me with an early copy!

⭐️⭐️⭐️☆☆ | A Haunting Premise That Didn’t Fully Land

I wanted to love this book so bad. A Bluebeard retelling is right up my alley, and Sour Cherry has all the makings of a dark, atmospheric gothic tale: a mysterious manor, eerie supernatural elements, and a chilling exploration of power and control. However, the overall story didn’t land with me.

The novel’s cyclical structure—repeating themes of abuse, loss, and inevitable doom—feels intentional, but at times, it made the reading experience feel repetitive. I found myself checking how many more pages I had left to power through rather than being immersed in the narrative. The writing is undeniably lyrical, and the horror elements are striking, but something about the execution kept me at a distance rather than pulling me in.

That said, there are plenty of glowing reviews, and I can see why this book resonates with many readers. The themes are powerful, and the eerie, folklore-inspired atmosphere is skillfully crafted. My issues with it are very much a “me, not you” problem—if you love slow-burning, poetic horror with a dreamlike quality, Sour Cherry may be exactly what you’re looking for.

Thank you, NetGalley and Tin House Books, for the e-ARC in exchange for my honest review.

Sour Cherry is a haunting, gothic fairytale that weaves together the raw realities of trauma and abuse. As a blight follows a young man growing up, he leaves behind a trail of bodies in his wake. His wives feel trapped in a web of complicity and isolation. This novel explores the ways mothers, partners, children, and strangers are all deeply affected by domestic abuse. It was a tragic story. There are a litany of quotes that I wish to share, but unfortunately cannot because this is an ARC. This quote was published in the Goodreads description so I am free to share: “If you leave, you die. But if you die, you stay.” How long can a person excuse the actions of another? How do you escape if this moment is what splits your life into Before and After? This novel is full of desire, want, jealousy, guilt, and despair. Ultimately, Sour Cherry shows that the question “Why don’t you leave” has no simple answer.

I’m a bit torn about this book. I was drawn in immediately by the premise - a dark, gothic retelling of Bluebeard is right up my alley. And in some ways, it lived up to that promise. The prose is lyrical, almost hypnotic, but it also brings a savvy modern edge to the story that I really liked (would have liked to have seen more of this part of the story, actually). On the other hand, it could also be tedious and repetitive and, while I understood the need for ambiguity in its metaphorical approach to cycles of violence, I thought it was often too abstract for its own good. This story is certainly going to stick with me for awhile, but it might be a tricky one to recommend to others. I’ll be curious to read future offerings by this author.

Remember the French folktale Bluebeard-- you know, wealthy guy who murders his wives? Think that, but modern and dreamy. A book that asks-- what makes men become monsters?

The book was surreal and often hopeless, but an interesting take on old source material. It is a slowburn full of curiosities and, at times, confusing, but this debut will hold your attention and might generate some important conversations.

I have been reading fairy tales retold since before I was old enough to want more than what was offered by the original telling. I know the cadence, the violence, and the shape of these tales as well as my own heartbeat or body, fed as I have been on them for decades, which is how I know Natalia Theodoridou is doing something new and extraordinary with “Sour Cherry.”

Comparisons to Angela Carter have and will continue to be made, but I think a likening to Daniel M. Lavery’s “The Merry Spinster: Tales of Everyday Horror” or Carmen Maria Machado’s “Her Body & Other Parties” are more apt for this novel. Like the stories in these collections, Theodoridou’s “Sour Cherry” uses the bones of fairy tales as structure, but builds beyond the classic confines of gender, “once upon a time” time periods or clever postmodernism. The result: a far more fantastical beast.

I’d go so far as to say—don’t @ me—that Theodoridou makes the original Bluebeard retellings, those by Carter and Atwood and others, that electrified me with their subversion in my youth, feel almost archaic. To read this novel is to feel seen and to be haunted by it. The prose is achingly lovely in the way of fairy tales, but the tragedy at its core—the way its truth is woven through the plant lore and hearth magic and stories within the story—feels fresh and urgent and entirely now.

What makes this novel so different and effective is how Theodoridou has managed to take the cycle of domestic abuse and realize its devastation on a scale that can be understood by anyone, even those who sneer or sigh or condescend and ask that age old, awful question: “why didn’t she just leave?” Dear reader, “Sour Cherry” will tell you in the voices of the old tales and red-mouthed ghosts and birds that sing with the voices of women why she did not leave. I read this novel with my heart in my throat. I thought of my mother and my grandmother and countless other women I have loved and grieved with and I cried and felt vengeful and seen and wanted to break things with my hands. “Sour Cherry” is a triumph.

Thank you to NetGalley and Tin House for an ARC in exchange for an honest review of what’s set to be one of my favorite books of 2025.

Agnes, wet nurse turned nanny, recounts her experience overseeing a growing young lord in an old estate. He is mystical and potentially malevolent, yet, out of either loyalty, a strange fixation, or something else, she stays.

There is most definitely a lot to love in this book. The prose is so descriptive and feels deeply introspective on the part of our main character, Agnes. This might extend to a fault—there were moments where reading this felt like slicing a knife through something very dense and almost resistant. I think this book requires a certain amount of patience while consuming it. Definitely very folksy, gothic, dark!

Thank you #NetGalley and Tin House Books for an ARC.

The novel is a retelling of Bluebeard. It starts with Agnes, who is hired to be the wet nurse of the little lord after her child has died. She watches as the little lord grows up and death and decay spread around him. The story shifts and is largely told through the point of view of one of the wives, who lives surrounded by a Greek chorus of the ghosts of all of the ex-wives who have died before her.

The novel is a mix of Gothic horror and literary fiction. There is a palpable sense of tension and dread that builds throughout the story and the shifting points of view and shifting timelines leave the reader not entirely certain about what is happening - what is real and what is the story that we tell ourselves as we're living through terrible things.

Sour Cherry by Natalia Theodoridou is an intriguing blend of magical realism and emotional depth. The story explores themes of identity, memory, and transformation in a way that feels both haunting and beautiful. The writing is poetic, capturing the inner lives of the characters with sensitivity and detail.

That said, the pace can be a bit slow, and the more abstract elements of the story might leave some readers feeling a little lost or disconnected. It’s the kind of book that requires patience and openness to its dreamy, almost surreal qualities.

While it wasn’t a book that fully grabbed me, I can see how it would resonate with readers who enjoy introspective, layered narratives and don’t mind a bit of ambiguity. If you’re into stories that explore the complexities of human experience with a touch of the fantastical, Sour Cherry is definitely worth checking out.

“If you stay, you die. But if you die, you stay.”

I went into this story without any knowledge of the original Bluebeard tale, so for me it didn’t read as a reimagining, but as a dreamlike, heartbreaking, and haunting tale of ghosts, toxic masculinity and the endless cycles of abuse. (Although I wish I would have known so I could have gotten myself caught up. You can read this without any previous knowledge of the tale, but I think it would really enhance the experience with some familiarity of the story.)

There were parts of this story that felt tedious and repetitive, but after finishing my read through, I’ve chosen to believe that was the ended effect as to further symbolize the true endlessness and hopelessness that situations of DV can have on everyone impacted.

Something that really stuck with me is how the story manages to both highlight the experiences of the women entrapped in this story - his mother, his wives, and his wet nurse, but at the same time have them feel like mere footnotes in their own story as well.

I’m genuinely at a loss for words. This is one of those books where all you can do when you finish is sit in silence.

So many thanks to NetGalley for the eARC!