Carrion Crow

by Heather Parry

Marguerite has been locked in the attic of her family home, a disintegrating Chelsea house overlooking the stench of the Thames. For company she a sewing machine, a copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management and trays of congealing food carried up to her with little regularity. Marguerite has been confined by her mother, Cécile, who is concerned about her engagement to an older, near-penniless solicitor, Mr Lewis, and wishes to educate her daughter on ‘proper’ married conduct – lest she drag the family’s good name into disrepute. But why is Marguerite pursuing the aged Mr Lewis in the first place? Why are her mother’s visits seemingly becoming less frequent? And just how much time has passed since the lock closed on the attic’s hatch?

Carrion Crow is a transportive and gloriously gothic commentary on the constraints of polite society – and the even greater danger of conformity – that unfurls one family’s festering secrets.

Genres: Horror, Gothic, Historical Fiction, Fiction, LGBT, Historical, Adult

249 pages, Kindle Edition

Published February 27, 2025

About the author

Heather Parry is a writer of fiction and nonfiction. Her debut novel, Orpheus Builds a Girl, was shortlisted for the Saltire Fiction Book of the Year award and longlisted for the Polari First Book Prize.

She is also the author of a short story collection, This Is My Body, Given For You, and a short nonfiction book, Electric Dreams: On Sex Robots and the Failed Promises of Capitalism, and writes the Substack general observations on eggs. Her latest novel, Carrion Crow, was released in Feb 2025.

She was raised in Rotherham and lives in Glasgow with her partner and their cats, Fidel and Ernesto. 

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Heather Parry’s devastating queer, gothic novel was partly inspired by Blanche Monnier, a French woman whose family locked her in an attic for close to 25 years. Set in late Victorian London, Parry’s narrative charts the gradual disintegration of Marguerite Périgord, offspring of a once-illustrious family, who has been similarly hidden away by her mother. Cécile, her mother, was born in Lancashire as Cecilia Hargreaves, the daughter of a self-made man – based on Lord Lever - who later made his fortune from soap manufacturing. A success that effectively enabled him to auction off his daughter to an aristocratic family in need of cash. Cécile’s experiences of living with a dissolute husband, who later abandoned her, has somehow culminated in her devising a particularly cruel and unusual punishment for her ‘wilful’ older daughter. As Marguerite slowly starves in a dilapidated, vermin-infested attic, Parry’s narrative deftly intertwines hers and Cécile’s stories chronicling the events that might have led to Marguerite’s imprisonment.

Parry’s exceptionally intense, visceral novel draws on histories of Empire and colonial exploitation, highlighting the contradictions and hypocrisy underlying Victorian society. It’s an era in which upper-class women are especially, ruthlessly, constrained. All aspects of their demeanour and behaviour heavily policed, partly symbolised here by the copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management left in the attic for Marguerite to study. Mrs Beeton’s book was a bestseller in Victorian times, a thousand pages of "prescribed femininity, the dictionary of what men wanted from women…” Marguerite’s confinement is ostensibly meant to school her in these requirements, readying her for the marriage she apparently desires. But Cécile’s actions are clearly bound up with perceptions of Marguerite as ‘unnatural’ likely stemming from Marguerite’s passion for a woman known only as Alouette.

Marguerite’s growing awareness of her mother’s failings and true intentions is partly spurred by observing a carrion crow nesting in the rafters. The crow’s apparent spontaneity and dedication towards her chicks is in stark contrast to Cécile’s increasingly-toxic brand of parenting. Parry’s portrayal of Cécile deliberately counters a recent slew of books about harried but essentially loving mothers. Instead, she’s intent on examining, and exposing, the destructive projections and forms of violence that mothers may inflict on their daughters. But Parry skilfully repels possible readings of Cécile as somehow inherently evil, instead she emphasises the social and cultural pressures that may have made her like this. The result is haunting and powerful but it could also be an incredibly challenging read. The descriptions of Marguerite’s decaying mental and bodily state are often unflinching, nauseatingly graphic. As her body deteriorates, bleeding, seeping, oozing and flaking, she digs into it, fascinated by its excretions, testing its limits and vulnerabilities, the only territory left under her control. Parry has a pretty distinctive voice but, if I had to compare, her approach and preoccupations, her startling imagery, are strongly reminiscent of writers like Mónica Ojeda and Camilla Grudova.

Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Doubleday for an ARC

[Adrienne L · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was well written, but I guess I was expecting more than a terribly sad (seems too light of a word for this really) story of imprisonment and injustice. Definitely one of the most depressing things I've read, at any rate, especially since it was based on the true and tragic imprisonment of Blanche Monnier. Honestly, I'm just left feeling angry and sad, and I didn't find the chapters from Cecile's POV at all enlightening or the end satisfying.

[Johanna Van]

If you want ultimate gothic, do yourself a favour and read this book; it doesn't get much more gothic than this!

[em · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh my what a glorious and wretched novel. This was unlike anything I’ve read before. While the main plot itself was uneventful and repetitive, the writing made this novel stand out. Parry describes the human body with so much detail and grotesque levels of complexity that reading this made me feel like I was stuck in the attic with Marguerite and her crows.

Marguerite becomes something inhuman as the story grows, her confinement gives way to something unnatural living inside her. Through her unreliable narration, we learn about her life before her entrapment, her lovers and her hopes for her future. I also enjoyed the exploration of her mother and her life and the chaotic nature that surrounded the house.

This novel descends into pure madness and feels like a giant, festering wound unraveling. There’s no other way to describe it, it was sickening and heartbreaking and I couldn’t put it down.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for kindly providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review. #CarrionCrow #NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

[Hannah Sherrington · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hands down the creepiest most vile book I’ve read… I’m going to curl up in a ball and rethink my life for a while.

[The Grim Reader UK · Rating 5 out of 5]

“There are some facts about the world that only your mother can teach you.”

I mainly read and review horror fiction. This puzzle box of a novel took me entirely by surprise. In its early pages, I was fascinated by its idiosyncrasies and portrait of late Victorian British eccentricity, but left wondering “at which point will the horror show its ugly head?”. I even began to wonder if I’d made a mis-step in requesting this book for review.

I needn’t have been so concerned. By the time this book was finished with me, I was left with no doubts. This is one of the most affecting books I’ve read in a long time. Parry’s rich prose is a barbed delight: I was amused, upset, disgusted, appalled and horrified - frequently all within the space of a few pages. The writing employs all five senses to thoroughly revolt you and there are some grotesque descriptions in this book that will stay with me for a long time.

Marguerite Périgord is engaged to marry Mr Lewis. Her disapproving mother Cécile confines her to the tiny attic of their dilapidated London home by way of preparation for her married life. Isolated from her family and with only the novels of Victor Hugo and Mrs Beaton’s Book of Household Management (“the thousand pages of prescribed femininity, the dictionary of what men wanted from women”) for company, Marguerite earnestly begins her education.

“It is the great shame of my life, Marguerite, that you have turned out the way you have, despite my best efforts. You will be the death of me, I think…”

As the novel discloses its secrets, we learn about Cécile’s life and the lengths her daughter must now go to for survival as her ostentatious meals are provided less and less frequently. This is a witty, scathing novel about scandal and unfulfilled promises, about what it means to be a mother, a daughter, and a wife at the mercy of a cruel patriarchy; but perhaps most of all it is about generational trauma.

I devoured the second half of this novel in a day, on a train back up north from (appropriately enough) London. My friend was surprised when I told her how horrible Carrion Crow was since she’d seen me chuckling to myself a lot whilst reading it. I hadn’t realised how much I’d laughed during this book until someone else pointed it out. This is a very witty novel: horrible things happen, but you would have to have a heart of stone not to laugh at the way in which some of them are described.

In terms of comparisons, the book that Carrion Crow reminds me of most is Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind, in terms of the sense(s) of the disturbing and macabre, the abundance of bodily fluids, and the sheer revulsion invoked by the prose. Fans of Camilla Grudova will also find a lot to enjoy here.

I would not recommend this book to everyone - please check trigger warnings before proceeding because there’s a lot here that could be damaging. But for readers who can stomach it, this book will be a carton of mixed eggs, where the first one you choose will be a sweet chocolate fondant; the next, a sharp vinegared hard-boiled egg - and the third one you bite into just might contain a fragile baby bird beneath its crisp shell.

I’m off to devour the rest of Parry’s back catalogue like a boiled calf’s head that I must strip of every last scrap of meat from for sustenance.

Thank you to RandomHouse UK and Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of this book.

[Rachel Louise Atkin · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a great gothic, literary horror about a woman who is kept trapped in the attic by her mother due to her recent engagement to an older man. I loved how the main character slowly descended into insanity and the use of the crow metaphor was really Poe-like and the atmosphere of the book was brilliant for those who enjoy Victorian gothic novels like Jane Eyre but with more of a modern, feral twist to them. I felt like the pacing let it down a bit for me and I found it a little slow, meaning I still much enjoyed Parry's earlier novel than this one, but I still definitely recommend this!

[Elizabeth · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this dark Victorian Gothic horror that explored themes of class, queerness and the bonds between mother and daughter. The story follows Maugeritte who has been locked away in the attic in her childhood home by her mother to educate her so that she might be suitable to marry an older (and poorer) man, that her mother does not approve of, with only Victor Hugo, Mrs. Beaton's Cookbook and a carrion crow nesting in the roof for company. The premise evokes both Jane Eyre's 'madwoman' in the attic and a (much) darker version of the fairytale 'Rapunzel'. The tight pacing and switch between the mother and daughter's backstory kept me gripped and guessing about the motivations behind each of their actions. Beautifully told, even if at times I was reading between my fingers.

[kel ✦⏾ · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has sewn itself into the very fabric of my brain. Carrion Crow is everything I’ve ever wanted. This viscerally vile gothic horror packs a huge punch in just over 200 pages. Its pages are steeped in rage and depravity, with notes of classism, misogyny, forbidden queer love, and generational trauma, resulting in the most horrific and gut wrenching cocktail. Reminiscent of Jackson and Poe, this is a true gothic book full of dread, tension, and disquiet. 🐦‍⬛🏚️🕸️

Margeurite has been locked in the attic, with nothing more than a sewing machine, a homemakers handbook, a lumpy cot, and a carrion crow. Confined by her mother, Cecilia, she is to learn the ways of a housewife before embarking on a new life with her solicitor husband-to-be. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, then time loses all meaning. Margeurite, deprived of regular meals, human contact, or distraction, begins to lose herself; slowly falling into madness, forgetting the lines drawn between herself and her crow. Woven through this isolation are the histories of both Cecilia and Margeurite, painting a slow portrait of both women and their traumatic lives.

Not a single word was wasted in this one. Needle sharp prose that, on their own don’t amount to much, create a festering pin pricked wound by the end. If you loved We Have Always Lived in the Castle and want something with similar but infinitely more horrific vibes, this is for you. I cannot recommend this to the masses, but if you enjoy body horror, slow burn, unreliable narrations, and character driven stories, this might be for you. More than once I physically gaged which has never happened to me while reading before….. so do with that what you will. I will think of Margeurite often, reading her story made me forget the lines drawn between her and my own self.

[Well of Lost Books · Rating 3 out of 5]

You ever finish a book and immediately need a bleach bath for your soul? Yeah. That.

Carrion Crow is one of the darkest, most viscerally revolting things I’ve read in a long time... and I mean that as both a compliment and a cry for help. Heather Parry doesn’t just write about decay; she makes you smell it. This gothic fever dream draws from the real-life case of a woman imprisoned in an attic for twenty-five years, and somehow makes that horror even more suffocating.

The dual timelines between mother and daughter are masterful - showing how cruelty, repression, and inherited trauma rot through generations like damp through old wallpaper. Watching Marguerite’s mind fray, her sense of time slip, her body turn against her… it’s grotesque and fascinating in equal measure. Parry’s writing is lyrical, intense, and utterly relentless. You feel the claustrophobia, the stench, the moral decay.

That said, the internal monologues sometimes meander into full existential loops (you can see what Parry’s doing - showing madness in real time), but it occasionally tips into “please, just open a window” territory. Still, the slow descent into madness and the mirroring between the crumbling house and the family’s downfall are thematically brilliant.

By the end, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to applaud or set the book on fire. It’s horrifying, artful, and unforgettable — the kind of novel you don’t enjoy so much as endure. And then immediately text a friend to say, “READ THIS. I think I’ve lost my mind.”

Final thought: If you can smell the Thames through the page… congratulations, you’ve been hexed. 🖤

[Dan Bassett · Rating 4 out of 5]

Marguerite has known solitude, having been locked in the attic of her family home, a house far past its prime, a shell that is constantly disintegrating which is unsurprising when you learn that’s its very existence is next to the mighty Thames, which in this stage of its life is nothing more than a cesspit of effluence and decay disguised as a river…
For company Marguerite makes do with: a sewing machine that, much like the rest of the house has seen better days, a battered copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management and tray upon tray of what surely was once upon a time food that is ferried up to her with little regularity.
Her jailer is her mother, Cécile, who only is concerned about Marguerites engagement to an older, near-penniless solicitor, Mr Lewis, and longs to educate her daughter on proper married conduct - lest she dare drag the family’s good name through the mud and into disrepute. Just the very notion!
But why is Marguerite set on Mr Lewis to begin with? Her mothers visits which to begin with were very frequent but as of late seem to be rarer than that of the fabled Blue Moon, and the biggest question that should be asked is just how much time has passed since the attic became her entire world?
Perhaps she can make at least one ally in this strange place: the crow that seems to have chosen the space above Marguerite. Yes, she will do. She can be her friend…. Can’t she?
A depraved, emotional, uncomfortable observation on class, relationships, and the undulating bonds of motherhood, Carrion Crow is as shocking as it is a delight!

[Nailya · Rating 4 out of 5]

Carrion Crow is a near-perfect execution of contemporary Gothic tropes, a story of a literal mad woman in the attic, sprinkled with discussions of race, queerness and embodiment of female emotions. It is beautifully written and wretchingly off-putting, with just the right amount of gory imagery. Marguerite wants to escape her mother's home by marrying an older man, but her mother, Cecile, locks her in the attic till she can learn how to become a proper lady. We follow Marguerite's slow phantasmagorical disintegration, superimposed on the more conventionally told story of how her mother got to be the gaoler that she is.

I loved the precise prose of this novel, both in the various societal observations and naturalistically written body horror. The book is full of striking imagery that, for me at least, never went beyond the Gothic into more disturbing gore (think the new Nosferatu movie rather than a Clive Barker story).

It is not a realistic costume drama by any means but rather a fable of complicity. Cecile obsessively retreats into grotesque propriety as a response to the world's failure to uphold its part of the gendered social contract. She is a Gothic Alicent Hightower on steroids. Her sections, as a contrast to stifling and suffocating Marguerite chapters, open up the world of the attic to put it in its wider context. Cecile's story of white women's complicity in white supremacist patriarchy is very timely in a world of glorified trad wives.

The novel explores the complexities of class and social hierarchies through its simplified fairy tale like narrative. Whiteness and lineage are key to the novel's themes and imagery, and the narrative does touch on contextual imperialism and racism, but I felt that the author could have pushed that further and explored the themes of race deeper. I was also expecting some sort of a narrative twist, something snappy at the end, to bring it all together, but I found the ending somewhat unsatisfying.

I would recommend this stand-out Gothic novel for its beautiful prose, striking imagery, and social commentary.

[Gill Bennett · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a devastatingly savage gothic queer novel set in the Imperial years of the late Victorian era about the ‘higher echelons’ of society with its nouveau riche and impoverished aristocracy; daughters and wives treated as being an inferior species and frequently disposable.

The central premise of the story is Cécile’s imprisonment of her daughter, Marguerite, in an attic ostensibly to learn to be a good wife to an older solicitor, from a despised inferior background, by memorising Mrs Beeton’s Household Management and by dieting herself into a thinner, paler version of herself. Marguerite’s compliance seems incomprehensible at first but as the details of her decades in the attic are very explicitly and horrifically described and the life history is laid bare of her mother, Cécile, daughter of a self made soap manufacturer, and wife of a reckless and wanton libertine, scion of a French aristocratic family, it becomes clear that both mother and daughter are victims of a heartless, hypocritical and savage Victorian society.

This book is very skilfully written but is not for the faint hearted. However I found it compelling in a gruesome way with all its twists and turns. An indictment of Victorian attitudes to women and children at all levels of society.

[Katrina Clarke · Rating 4 out of 5]

Absolutely perfectly unhinged and disgusting. I must read more of Parry's books, her writing is a joy.

Loved the way both M and C's stories combined, with each other and with the metaphorical(?) mother crow. I have never written a sentence that sounds so pretentious. Ugh. Please don't judge.

[endrju]

Spooktober #1

I wasn’t a fan. I’m not really into the gothic as such, so this one did very little for me. What’s more, I was particularly annoyed by the fact that there’s no reason the girl couldn’t just leave. I kept thinking, come on, girl, open that trapdoor already! the entire time.

[Geertje]

This one was a bit repetitive (I wonder if it would have worked better as a novella), but boy, it doesn't get more gothic than this, now does it?

[Irma]

so true Heather Parry, you really “are always a child in the shadow of your mother” …

[Fleur Sciortino · Rating 2 out of 5]

I cannot review this book accurately as I found it's content too upsetting and disturbing. I cannot fault it for wanting to be a graphic body horror novel. for what it's worth it was well written, but this was certainly not for me.
Time to read something happy!

[Jasmine De La Paz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Carrion Crow is a visceral and utterly vile Victorian gothic unlike any I have ever read. Parry's prose poked at me like a needle, and the sorrowful story strung through me with its thread. I am maimed. I can't look at a crow (and there are crows aplenty where I live) without recalling this horrific tale. Needless to say, I loved it!

The book, which explores themes of societal constraints, misogyny, generational trauma, and forbidden love, begins with Cecile Périgord locking her daughter, Marguerite, in the attic of their crumbling home overlooking the miasmic Thames. With nothing more than Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management and a sewing machine, Marguerite is to stay locked within until she learns the duties of a wife, on the brink of her promised marriage to a solicitor. 

Days pass into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and Marguerite turns to her own body to pass the time, blurring the lines between herself and a carrion crow in the rafters. Woven throughout with backstory, the reader slowly begins to understand the minds of the mother and daughter, with secrets and scandals unraveling with their sanity. 

I read this while having a mild cold which made me feel even more unsettled. There were times when I was so disgusted that I gagged, but don't let that deter you, for it goes to show how well Parry's words clawed into me. I highly recommend! It is certainly a powerful book. 

[Susan Atkin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had to give up on this. Not because of the harrowing story (the darker the better for me) it was too repetitive. The descriptive writing was very good, however, as was the original storyline, so it would be unfair to score it less than a 3.

[Gail · Rating 2 out of 5]

Gross

[Paulina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Marguerite Périgord is to be married to an older man but before she can be allowed to do that, her mother locks her in the attic to prepare her for the life of a wife.

This book was terribly difficult to read. At times it was so horrifically gruesome that it turned my stomach. But at the same time I could not put it down.

I loved that we get the story of both Marguerite and her mother. That we get to explore this toxic relationship between the two women. Especially with Cecile's side of the story, it's so brilliantly done because it would be so easy to see her only as a monster. But instead we see a woman who took the hatred she feels towards herself and what her life became and turns it towards her daughter who, she believes, is about to make the same mistakes she did when she was younger. It's her twisted way of protecting her daughter and at the same time punishing this version of herself.

Marguerite's pov is certainly the hardest to read, and you want to let yourself get lost in this fantasy she's creating for herself but everything in the story is telling you things are so much worse than we can see. And I love that the ending manages to be beautiful in the most heartbreaking way.

This is certainly not an easy book to read, but it was worth every moment.

[Steph Mckenna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Carrion Crow is one of my most anticipated reads of 2025, following Heather Parry’s grisly gothic debut, Orpheus Builds a Girl, which became my favourite book of 2022. Parry’s distinctive style of warped gothic storytelling is truly one-of-a-kind. Her novels have a remarkable quality that makes them feel both of their time and timeless—able to evoke the sensibilities of 150 years ago, while resonating with contemporary themes.

Carrion Crow is a single-location story that explores two lives constrained and degraded by societal expectations of women and the confines of polite society. Set in a small attic, we follow Marguerite, who is both excited and apprehensive about her engagement to a much older—and potentially penniless—man. She is grateful to her mother, Cécile, who has confined her to the attic in order to prepare her for the best possible start to domestic life.

Left with only her own thoughts, a copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management, a carrion crow nesting in the rafters, and her changing body, Marguerite’s days and weeks slowly blur together. As she begins to question when she will be freed, she watches as her body (and mind) warps and frays before her eyes.

At the same time, the reader is given a glimpse into Cécile’s own engagement and marriage through a parallel narrative, revealing the humiliation she endured as a young woman—experiences that have ultimately driven her to take such extreme measures with Marguerite.

Carrion Crow is a captivating story that explores themes of polite society, class, generational trauma, gender roles, the mind-body connection, and the haunting metaphor of ‘the mad woman in the attic.’ For readers drawn to visceral body horror with strong Gothic undertones, this novel delivers in full. Marguerite’s physical degradation is depicted in unsettling detail: horrifying, grotesque, and profoundly pitiful. Like Orpheus, you’ll be left both repulsed and fascinated, yet ultimately, enraged.

[Erin Crane · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 or something rounded up. Wow! I didn’t expect what I got here. This is as much the story of Cecile as it is Marguerite. It’s a story of trauma and pain from one generation getting passed on and inflicted onto the next generation. Upper class white woman struggles but still struggles - and, in the case of Marguerite, also the struggles of being a queer woman in this time period.

Gothic but also surprisingly gross. Marguerite is trapped in an attic for decades, so that goes the way you would think in terms of cleanliness. And then some added layers of nasty that have some symbolic/thematic context.

Slow and repetitive at times, but I enjoyed the writing and the ick of it all.

[Sarah · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don't think I really understood this book so I really didn't enjoy it. I didn't DNF as I wanted to see it through. I liked the parts where we looked back on Cécile's life but they came out of nowhere and I don't really understand the relevance to the plot? (Apart from maybe to explain the families situation?).

Thank you Doubleday and Netgalley for the arc.

[Jennaur · Rating 3 out of 5]

“When did you last look at yourself, Mother? When did you last think about who you are? About who you have made me?”

Absolutely devoured the second half of this - my first proper gothic read, such a beautiful writing style it genuinely made me nauseous. Worth it though. Would give a higher rating but I just struggled for some parts of it… 3.5 if I could.

[Carys Morley · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75

Beautifully written and delightfully grim, if a little repetitive. And I am struggling in general with modern gothic. Part of what makes older gothic stuff so unnerving and interesting is the ambiguity. This book leaves not much to interpretation, which is fine in general, but for me, a tad disappointing in the context of the gothic genre. Still, I really enjoyed this book. One of the best modern gothics I’ve read.

[Lydia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Viscerally dark and disturbing. Both stories that are interwoven here were tragic and brutal. Sometimes I was eating when reading and had to put the book down though. So wouldn't recommend having a li'l snack when reading this book. Doesn't mix well. Would recommend the book though!

[Carmen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fucked up!!! <3

[Adam Grime · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5