Phenomenal. This reminded me of We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson (and Jackson is in such a class of her own, so that is a huge compliment to Purvis). The Mansfield girls and their grandfather are already pariahs—envied and disliked by most of the village—mostly for their relative wealth and because the girls are not as docile and submissive as young ladies “should” be, in the eyes of some. Then, a local (soon to be one of the most hated characters you’ve ever read) claims he’s witnessed the girls transform into dogs. Crucible-level rumor mill begins churning, and it's immediately clear that the whole town is heading towards a fever pitch that will not end well.

The idea of women turning into dogs isn’t new—the recent Nightbitch, for one, comes to mind. But in this perfectly paced 200-page delight, the idea doesn’t feel stale or trite at all—this book was utterly bewitching. The atmosphere (bleak, feverish, murderous heat of summer mixed with superstitious, debase, small-minded mob mentality) is reminiscent of some of my favorite short stories (The Lottery, again Jackson, comes to mind). And for me, the ending was nearly perfect.

I haven’t read many five-star books this year, but this one ticked all the boxes for me. Xenobe Purvis’s prose, and her incredible grasp of humanity, is something I rarely find in contemporary authors, and I love it. Also, it’s feminist as f$*% in the best ways. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Perfect for those of us who grew up loving Wuthering Heights and Sophia Coppola movies. On par with the hysteria of the Salem witch trails and a true testament to girls/sisters relationships and a shared madness. As a weird girl, this resonated a lot with me. Phenomenal. This reminded me of We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson (and Jackson is in such a class of her own, so that is a huge compliment to Purvis). The Mansfield girls and their grandfather are already pariahs—envied and disliked by most of the village—mostly for their relative wealth and because the girls are not as docile and submissive as young ladies “should” be, in the eyes of some. Then, a local (soon to be one of the most hated characters you’ve ever read) claims he’s witnessed the girls transform into dogs. Crucible-level rumor mill begins churning, and it's immediately clear that the whole town is heading towards a fever pitch that will not end well.

The idea of women turning into dogs isn’t new—the recent Nightbitch, for one, comes to mind. But in this perfectly paced 200-page delight, the idea doesn’t feel stale or trite at all—this book was utterly bewitching. The atmosphere (bleak, feverish, murderous heat of summer mixed with superstitious, debase, small-minded mob mentality) is reminiscent of some of my favorite short stories (The Lottery, again Jackson, comes to mind). And for me, the ending was nearly perfect.

I haven’t read many five-star books this year, but this one ticked all the boxes for me. Xenobe Purvis’s prose, and her incredible grasp of humanity, is something I rarely find in contemporary authors, and I love it. Also, it’s feminist as f$*% in the best ways.